Beautiful Creature of Darkness
by Angelmuse
Summary: Christine has just left with Raoul, toward the end of the 2004 movie. As the mob draws closer, Erik thinks of suicide. Just before he pulls the trigger, however, the voice of his beloved stops him.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Erik the Phantom, and yet he owns me...Neither do I own the rest of the characters. What I do own, however, is the ability to dream up new scenarios for them. I can certainly create the events that _should_ have happened...**

**A/N: I would like to explain the title of this story, for those of you who may wonder at it. The original phrase, from the musical, as well as the film, is "pitiful creature of darkness". All of us phans who are madly in love with Erik (sigh...), especially in the form of one Mr. Gerard Butler, know this phrase all too well. **

**The reason for the change is quite obvious, really. I don't like to think of Erik as "pitiful". To me, as I'm sure to many of you as well, this equates to "pathetic". I don't think _any_ of us would apply _that_ adjective to Erik! He _is_, indeed, a _beautiful _creature of darkness! He is a magnificent, brilliant Renaissance man! And his capacity for love, although bordering on obsession, is magnificent, as well! He is an intoxicatingly sensuous man who loves with his entire being...(Poor Leroux, you missed this aspect of our dear Erik!)**

**In short, I much prefer the title I have chosen. After all, an author has a right to a little creative license, right? So go right ahead, readers, and enjoy this "beautiful creature of darkness"!**

**Chapter I - A Torchlit Madness**

_Erik_

The torches cast an eerie, fitful glow on the walls of the tunnels as the mob descended, further and further. I knew that it would not be long before they were able to discover the home that I had so lovingly, so painstakingly, designed for myself. I no longer cared...

My strength was suddenly spent. Yet, I could not let them find me, at least, not alive. They would probably tear me to pieces. Even if they failed to do so, however, I would be bound and overpowered, and taken to the police, where I would surely be caged. _Bound. Overpowered. Caged._ The words stung. I could not allow this to happen. I had to put an end to myself, as quickly as possible. After all, I had nothing to live for now. _She _had left me, to go off with that wretched aristocrat. He would ensure that she lived in total comfort, of that I was totally certain. He would care for her, and take pains so that she never felt less than secure. Her soul, however, would never again know the sweet tyranny of music's love...He would require her to leave the stage forever. No proper wife of an aristocrat could possibly follow a career on the opera stage. It was simply not done. I wondered, too, and the thought was like a dagger in my chest, whether this would be her only regret. Would she truly feel nothing for me, as she reclined in her luxurious chateau with her handsome young husband at her side? She had, after all, kissed me full on the lips. She had touched my ravaged face, and gazed into my eyes with what seemed like love. And yet, she had walked away from me...Yes, I must end it all now...

The sounds of the mob were growing louder and louder now. "Murderer!" "He must not be allowed to escape!" I looked around, not knowing what to do. I had smashed all my mirrors. None were left unscathed to torment me any further...Perhaps a shard of glass...No, that would be too painful...I wanted to leave this miserable world without agonizing interminably...I wanted to feel no more. This pain tearing at my gut, this horrible pain, the pain of betrayal, was much more than I could bear...I began to search wildly for my pistol. That would be the most efficient method of ending my agony. I would simply put it to my right temple, and pull the trigger. Then, it would all be over. The music of the night had already ended. I would probably never play or compose again. My beautiful muse, my angel, my Christine, was gone. Where was that blasted pistol? I searched like a madman for it. Never had I dreamed that I would turn my onetime lust to kill upon myself. It was entirely logical, however. Was this not a fitting end to a murderer's life?

I ran from room to room, my heart pounding as if it would break out of my chest, my head feeling as if a hammer had installed itself inside. Sweat dripping from me, I tried to locate the pistol. The sounds were growing ever closer...Then I heard it. Someone was calling out my name. No, it couldn't be! I must locate that pistol!

Finally, I went into a small storeroom that I had always kept locked. It was located directly behind Christine's former bedroom, and she knew nothing of its existence, as it was very cleverly hidden. Surely the pistol was ensconced within. I had no time to look for the key, although I was fairly confident that I knew where it was. This, of course, was not a problem at all. Lockpicking was the least of my considerable talents.

The door was at last open, and I stepped inside. As I did so, I heard the voice again...I shook my head, deciding that it had to be my imagination, playing tricks on me. Surely it could not be _her_ voice! I rummaged around inside the storeroom, cursing myself for not bringing a candle with me. There were odds and ends in there, including old sheet music and discarded clothing. No pistol as yet...I went further inside, groping blindly, with a grim determination to find the instrument that would blow my disfigured head to kingdom come. I would no longer horrify, no longer offend, no longer _be in the way_. My existence would cease to present a problem to others.

Ah, my questing right hand finally closed on the object of my search. Success! I drew the pistol out of its hiding place, gloating like a man who has found a treasure. Well, in a manner of speaking, I had. This was the treasure that would at last set me free. I would leave all this torment, all this unbearable pain, and would be forcibly transported to sweet oblivion. That was all I truly wanted now.

I stepped out of the storeroom, and into Christine's bedroom. Ah, it seemed most fitting for me to do the deed here. I would splatter my brains, my blood, all over the bed where I had once laid her, the night she fainted after seeing her likeness decked in wedding finery. After checking the pistol to make sure that it was properly loaded, I put it to my right temple. My hand was trembling violently, my chest heaving just as violently. Uncharacteristically, I breathed a quick prayer asking for forgiveness. I suppose one's childhood teachings never completely desert one, especially in times of great need. I had, after all, been raised a Catholic, and I knew the Church's view on suicide. Once finished with my simple little prayer, I cocked the pistol.

_"Erik!"_

I whirled around, my arm still raised to my temple. _She _stood there, her gown sopping wet, her beautiful hair bedraggled, and her face, her lovely face, was twisted with a terrible anguish, an anguish that caused a fresh fire of pain to knife me in the chest.

"Erik, for the love of God!" she screamed, though not daring to come toward me, fearing that I might do the unthinkable, and pull the trigger right in front of her.

She now took two tentative steps in my direction, holding her hands out in a pleading gesture. Tears poured down her face, sobs made her exquisite little bosom heave. She had never looked more beautiful to my eyes. She seemed to be a vision from beyond. For one stunning, time-stopping moment, I thought that perhaps I _had_ pulled the trigger, and was seeing a denizen from the highest reaches of the heavenly realm. I stood completely still, frozen and numb. This could just not be happening...

"Erik, please... " she entreated me, now approaching, yet slowly. "Put that horrible thing down, please. Do you wish my life to end, also? It surely will if you do away with yourself. Please, my love, my angel!" As she finished saying these words, a great racking sob tore through her. I continued to stare at her, stupefied into immobility.

Two or three minutes passed, while we both stood, staring at each other, with the background noises of the approaching mob now incredibly loud in the passages near the lake. At last, I put my arm down, slowly, though still staring at her, not able to feel anything, totally in shock as I was.

She inhaled sharply, and then suddenly rushed toward me, weeping hysterically. She came right into my arms, and they automatically went around her, as tears began pouring from my own eyes. I began to shake with an uncontrollable emotion, tightening my arms around her. "Christine. Christine," I murmured over and over, as we both sobbed into each other's arms...

"This is the way!" a voice screamed, too close to the lake...Suddenly I sprang into action. Letting the pistol clatter to the ground, I swung her into my arms, and went out into the lake. I splashed my way to the grilled gate, now remembering that it had stayed open when Christine and Raoul had left. However, it was not up far enough. Apparently, it had come down to some extent after they had gone through it.

"Erik, hurry!" Christine screamed, jumping down from my arms. I pushed at the lever, and was able to raise the gate further. Impatiently, she grabbed my hand, and we bent down a bit so as to go underneath the gate. My little angel had apparently abruptly taken charge of the situation!

We kept on, splashing through the rather murky water, our hearts pounding as one. On and on, as behind us, there were suddenly cries of "The gate! He has escaped through the gate!" and "After him, my lads!"

"Christine!" I cried out, panting, as I marveled at her swiftness, although I was easily able to keep up with her, "Where do you think you are taking me? Have you any idea, sweet?"

She turned suddenly to look at me, and the smile I had started to direct at her, in spite of the grimness of the situation, disappeared from my face. Her face was completely drained of color, and her eyes were like those of a hunted animal. We stared at each other briefly as we ran, and then, characteristically, she fainted right then and there. I was able to catch her as she fell, and kept right on running without breaking stride.

I would take another passageway that I was sure Raoul would not have known about. He and Christine would most likely have taken the most obvious route, which lay straight ahead of them. They would never have noticed this other route, which was invisible to the naked eye. I had to push a particular stone in the wall, and we would be through. I would then shut it behind us, and we would never be followed. The mob, if they dared to go that far, would believe that we had simply vanished. That suited our purposes perfectly.

Reaching the place where I was sure the hidden passageway lay, I paused, shifting Christine to my right shoulder. I began feeling along the wall with sensitive fingers, hoping to find the slight dip that would indicate a movable stone. It only took a couple of minutes for me to find it. I then pushed in just the right way, and the stone slid inward. Reaching inside, I felt around for the hidden lever that would open a door in the wall. As I did so, Christine moved slightly on my shoulder, and pausing in my efforts, I turned to look down at her. She was still unconscious, however, so I continued with my task. Finding the lever, I pulled on it with as much strength as I could muster, given that I had to keep my balance so I would not drop her. The lever moved forward, and I heard a dull roar as the mighty stone door opened. I stepped through, and, turning, pushed the door shut. There was still water in the passageway, as the underground lake continued throughout the entire length of the foundations of the Opera House. I sloshed on in the darkness, entirely sure of where we were going. Had I not designed all these passageways myself?

It would not be long now. We would soon emerge out into the street. However, there was now fresh cause for distress. I had forgotten my mask in the rush to get away! No one had seen my face, not even at the very end of my opera, "Don Juan Triumphant". I would probably not be recognized, and Christine would perhaps be taken for a victim of the great chandelier disaster, if she were still unconscious when we left the Opera House.

I pushed forward with new-found strength. My concern was now for her. I had to save her; she was my love, and had risked her own life to come back for me. On and on I went, while my angel slept on, unknowing. Ah, such sweetness, to carry this beloved woman in my arms! If necessary, I would carry her to the ends of the earth...

At last, I felt the lake bottom growing shallower, and finally emerged on the shore. There was a gentle slope leading up to the steps that would take me to the door that opened out into the street. This door would, naturally enough, be locked, but that was the least of my worries.

Finding the steps, I took them two at a time, bearing my precious burden in my arms. Her weight was slight, yet, had it been heavier, I would gladly have borne it without question. The steps seemed interminable. Up and up I went. At long last, I came to the door. Setting her carefully upon my left shoulder, I began to expertly pick the huge lock. At first, nothing happened, and the sweat began to collect upon my brow. Then, after two or three desperate tries, the lock gave. Pushing with all my strength, I was able to make the door move, albeit quite slowly.

The door swung open on its rusty, time-worn hinges. There was a sudden little breeze on my face. I stepped out onto a badly-lit alley, mindful of my sweet burden. Turning, I again applied all my strength, and pushed the door shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Erik the Phantom, and yet he owns me...sigh...**

**A/N: Thanks to one and all for your wonderful reviews! If you have an e-mail address on record, I will be sure to send you a "thank you" e-mail. If not, I will send a reply through the new "review reply" feature on the site. Stay "tuned", and I hope you continue to enjoy! There are quite a few touches of Kay in this story. If you have read her book, you are sure to notice them.**

**Chapter 2 - Closer Than A Brother**

_Erik_

Gently adjusting Christine in my arms, I softly caressed her cheek with one hand. She had no reaction. I tenderly lowered her to the cobblestones, not having any other choice, since I needed to check her pulse. It was light and fast. Next I put my left hand upon her brow. Ah, I had suspected as much...she was a bit warmer than normal. She must have fallen into the lake in her rush to return to me. Perhaps that blasted boy had tried to prevent her from doing so! In the ensuing struggle, she would then have lost her footing, to fall headlong into the lake. She was completely drenched. I had to find a place in which I could properly tend to her. She might very well catch a deathly chill. Oh, I knew exactly where to go! Nadir's apartment was not far from the Opera House.

I still remembered quite vividly my first encounter with him, years after my sojourn in Persia, when we shared a brougham on a bitterly cold Parisian night. We had renewed our unusual friendship. After all, no one can quite get along without a good conscience, can one? I daresay not! In spite of my sarcastic banter, and his overly zealous supervision of my activities, we are in truth closer than brothers, although neither one of us would, I am certain, willingly admit it to the other. Yes, I would definitely take my beloved Christine to Nadir's apartment...

I lifted her slight weight again, making sure that her head did not dangle uncomfortably, and moved off at a slow trot. The alley was totally deserted. As I came out of it onto a street, I desperately looked around for another alley entrance. There were a few people walking about. However, since the disaster at the Opera House was on the opposite side of the block where I now stood, I supposed the crowds must have gathered there. Still, I knew that now my highly unusual face was openly displayed for all to see, although I hoped it would not be as noticeable in the darkness of this moonless night. On the other hand, I carried an unconscious woman in my arms. The worst could quite easily be assumed...With this in mind, I slowed my pace, when my every instinct screamed out to me to run. I again adjusted Christine, resting her head on my right shoulder. Her abundant, richly-textured curls did hide to some extent the infamous right side of my face. Unfortunately, I could do nothing to hide the fact that my clothes, as well as hers, were completely sodden. Yet, I told myself that if I refrained from running madly, I might be able to pass among these few late-evening promenaders without attracting much notice. Alas, it was not to be...

"You, there!" called out a peremptory voice. "I say, you, there ! Where are you going with that woman ? Stop at once!"

I did not even turn around to see who was trying to detain me, although I would have been surprised if it had not been a gendarme. I gave free rein to my instincts, turning my apparently casual walking pace into a mad rush for the closest sheltering alley. Although I had not run regularly in years, I was in excellent physical shape, due to my endless traversing of all the hidden passageways and tunnels of the Opera House. Although my boots were wet also, they fit very snugly, and I had always been sure-footed, mercifully enough. This little talent had often served me well in the past, when running from people had actually been a matter of life and death!

As I began to run, I heard a loud whistle blowing behind me. I had been right. A gendarme, indeed! I increased my speed, and felt once again the rush of excitement that running brings, the sense of exultation and power...It mattered not that my arms were burdened. I felt that I was master of the wind!

I dashed down another alley, sure that I could not possibly have someone after me, not at the speed I had reached. Yet I was sure I heard running steps behind me. After a few minutes of exhilaration, I became concerned that I might stumble on some obstacle, and Christine could take a very nasty spill. I therefore slowed my speed. I was by no means out of breath, however. I could have continued my headlong race for a much longer time. Still following the alley, I discovered a stone staircase on the outside of one of the buildings. Again purely on instinct, I immediately began to climb the steps...

As I started to climb, I felt Christine stirring in my arms. She groaned weakly. I continued to climb swiftly, until I had gone up three floors. There I found a doorway that was recessed into the wall, and I gratefully leaned into it. I listened intently. If I had been followed, I would soon hear voices below.

I did not have long to wait. An extremely vulgar French expletive was heard from the floor of the alley. It was answered by another voice.

"We've lost the fellow!" shouted the same voice that had thrown the vulgarity to the winds.

The other voice snorted in derision. "Aye, mon!"

I was quite surprised to hear the Scottish accent. _'What is a Scottie doing in Paris?' _I wondered.

"D'ye think, lad, he might have vanished somehow ? Are ye quite sure of what ye saw?"

"Oh, I'm very sure, Monsieur" answered the Frenchman, almost contemptuously. "I know what I saw. The fellow had a most horrible face ! Half of it was entirely normal, but the other half..._Mon Dieu ! _He looked like the devil himself, he did, and no mistake!"

They had not yet thought of looking up and investigating the staircase. I had not a moment to lose...

"What was that ?" exclaimed the Frenchman suddenly. "I heard a groan from behind us, back the way we came! Ah, so he would try to give us the slip, would he? We've got him now, my friend!" With that, they turned right around and ran back toward the entrance to the alley. As they ran, I threw my voice further on, to the very entrance, while climbing back down the staircase. With my unique skill and a good deal of luck, those two fools would not realize, until it was too late, that I truly had given them the slip! To think that I first took up ventriloquism in a moment of tedious ennui...

Once back on the ground, I cautiously looked back for an instant, then started up again at a fast trot. Christine again stirred, groaning.

"Erik..." she mumbled. "So thirsty...Don't leave...me...Erik..." She tried to cling to me, but her hand fell away, and she lapsed into unconsciousness once more. I felt her forehead. It was much warmer now. I stopped briefly to press a feather-soft kiss upon her pale lips, then hurried on.

Soon I was on more familiar territory. I was drawing near to the building where Nadir lived. I stepped up my pace until I was at last standing right in front of it. He did not live in great luxury, as he received a small pension from the Persian government, which was sufficient for his needs, as he was wont to point out to me. He did retain the services of Darius, his long-time assistant. I therefore confidently rang the little bell on the side of the doorway.

Not a soul was to be seen on this street, a fact for which I was immensely grateful. As I waited out the seconds, then the minutes, I hoped the building was occupied, at least. I had no idea of the time, of course, but it must be well past midnight by now. Performances at the Opera House usually ended close to eleven o'clock. I estimated that more than two hours had already elapsed from the time I had whisked Christine away from the stage, to the present moment. I was unsure of Nadir's sleeping habits, but surely his servant would still be awake. I rang the bell again, more forcefully this time.

Nothing happened for an entire minute. Cursing under my breath, I balanced myself carefully, and directed a well-placed kick at the door.

"I don't believe anything is ever achieved by brute force, my dear Phantom," drawled an extremely familiar voice. I turned halfway around, to look upon the dratted Persian, who gravely stood before me, half-hidden in the darkness.

"Ah, my conscience appears once again, I see," I said, with an ironic smile. "Dear friend, for the love of all you hold most sacred, kindly open the door!"

The Persian glanced at my sweet burden. "You would not bring her here if she were dead, would you, Erik?" he cautiously inquired.

I was beginning to lose my patience. "Come, man, she is burning up with fever ! I would not be able to tend to her at my home, since it must be completely destroyed by now!"

"Ah, yes...the fire at the Opera House...I knew you must have had someting to do with that..."

"Nadir!" I screamed, beyond myself now.

He sighed, patiently. "Yes, indeed," he commented, as he came forward to unlock the door. "I see that he who would attempt to exile himself from the entire human race has succumbed to the power of love, just as any of us ordinary mortals might do!"

The door opened, and I found myself in a dark vestibule.

"Give me a moment, Erik, while I adjust the gas jets," said the daroga as he moved into the room, right behind me. Just as my eyes were beginning to grow accustomed to the darkness, which never took long for me, the room was suddenly lit by a soft, warm glow that suffused everything with golden hues.

"This way," said Nadir, taking a candle from a sideboard and lighting it. He led me down a passageway, and then turned a corner. A wooden staircase appeared, which we ascended as rapidly as my nerves urged us. Upon our arrival on the second floor, Nadir quickly led me down another passageway. We stopped at a door located at the end of it, which Nadir also unlocked.

Pushing past him, I ran into his apartment, looking around in haste for the entrance to his bedroom.

"Nadir," I shouted, "where is your blasted bedroom? I must lay her down at once!"

"Let me show you," he said, with a calmness that infuriated me. "I have the candle, after all. Walk ahead of me. I will light your way. Here, turn to the right."

He brought us into a small, sparsely-furnished bedroom. Ah, but the bed, it was sumptuous! Truly fit for a sultan or princeling of Persia!

I knew it would be extremely, luxuriously, comfortable, as well.

I laid her upon it as gently and reverently as I could. Smoothing her wet curls from her forehead, I placed my hand once more upon it. She was indeed burning up...I had to work as quickly as I could to remove her soaked clothing.

"Nadir!" I called out behind me, as I began to tear off her clothes with no care to their remaining intact for later use.

"I am here, Erik," he answered at once, at last catching my urgency. "What would you have me do?"

"Have your servant draw up a bath at once!" I commanded, with all the authority that my voice was capable of. "If he is not awake to perform the task, perform it yourself!"

Without a word, Nadir spun on his heels and went to do as I had ordered. I, meanwhile, continued to strip my Christine of her clothing, knowing full well what I would be experiencing when she finally lay fully exposed before my eyes. As I rid her of that damnable corset -- an instrument of torture, I considered these dastardly things to be -- my blood began to pound in my ears. I peeled down her stockings, tearing them in the process, after having swiftly removed her garters. Next I disposed of her chemise, just as swiftly. There she lay, in all her unclothed beauty. I took a deep breath, and firmly handled the rising flame of passion with brutal control.

Wrapping one of the sheets around her to shield her innocence from any other eyes but mine, I picked her up, calling for Nadir.

"Bring her in, my friend!" he answered, "The bath is ready."

"Have you any ice?" I called out, as I walked toward the bathroom. Nadir immediately moved aside to let me pass.

"I regret to say that I have none." I was able to discern the concern and sincere regret in his voice, but was too distressed myself to allow any degree of gratitude toward him to show on my face.

"Please shut the door and leave us," I said, in a rather curt voice. He obeyed without question.

I unwound the sheet from around her with one hand, rather awkwardly, and, throwing it on a small table next to the sink, lowered her into the bathtub with the greatest care. I washed and rinsed her lovingly, not forgetting her hair,taking no longer than necessary, then tenderly dried her off.

I emerged from the bathroom with Christine securely wrapped in the sheet, nestled in my arms. When I entered the bedroom, I found a sweetly immodest nightgown laid out on the bed for her._ Ah, _I thought, _a memento from one of his lady friends... _Well, it would simply have to do. Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I slipped the nightgown over her head, and prepared her for bed, covering her with the blankets. Then I smoothed her hair out on the pillow. She seemed to smile a little. Her forehead was still hot to the touch, but. I had nothing to break the hold the fever had upon her. All I could do was to keep her warm, and watch over her. Nature would do the rest.

I sat on the bed, next to her, and watched her by the light of the three candles Nadir had thoughtfully lit and placed on the small night table. I sighed, feeling utterly powerless. This angered me. I did not like this feeling of not being in control. I had not felt this way since I was a child, in my mother's house, and subject to what seemed to me at the time to be her unreasonable whims.

How long I sat thus, quietly seething as I stared at her, I do not know. I almost jumped up in surprise when I heard Nadir's voice at my elbow. I had entirely forgotten he existed...

"How is she?" he asked softly, seating himself on a Persian rug that lay beneath the only window in the room. He had already made sure to partially close it, so that no drafts could reach Christine. I had gratefully noticed this, also.

"Since there is no way for me to cool her down, we shall simply have to wait, my friend," I answered, dejectedly.

"Perhaps not, Erik," he said, mysteriously.

I looked at him in some perplexity.

"There is One who will help you, if you care to turn to Him"

I stiffened immediately, feeling a surge of anger which I did my best to quell.

"I beg of you, my dear daroga, not to mention such things to me. You know how I feel about this wonderful God you are so fond of." I almost choked on the word "God" as I spoke.

"Erik," he answered in a very soft voice, "I know that, deep inside, you do believe in Him. You were taught about Him as a young child. It's there, I can see it in you, although you do your best to push it away."

"Please leave the room, Nadir," I hissed, not looking at him. My anger had clutched my throat, and would soon burst forth, uncontrolled. I dared not look at him, fearing that I might hurt him.

"Erik," he persisted, in a very, very soft tone of voice now, "I want to help you. Do not be angry with me. I will leave you alone now, if you wish, but I would ask a favor from you before I go."

I looked over at him, and saw that his eyes were glistening strangely. I felt some remorse at having spoken to him in anger.

"Forgive me, daroga," I whispered, hoarsely. "I am in an extremely distraught state of mind. I don't want to lose her...She is my life... What favor do you want from me?"

"Allow me to give you some advice concerning this woman you love so. Never speak to her about your hatred of the Lord of All. She does not feel as you do. You must instead encourage her in her devotion to Him, for you will surely lose her love if you don't. And now, I will leave you, so that I may offer up prayers to my Allah on her behalf."

So saying, he arose to leave. I arose, too, and we stood, man to man, face to face, for a moment. He placed his hands on my shoulders, and I hesitantly did the same. We looked at each other.

"You are a man, Erik," he whispered. "And you feel as all other men do, when they are in love. Do not despair, for even though you truly believe the Almighty has deserted you, it is not so."

So saying, he dropped his hands from my shoulders, and I did the same. He then bowed to me, his hands steepled together in front of his chest. I did the same. Without further ado, he quietly left the room.

Although I knew it was going to be a very long, long night, I now felt a faint flicker of hope...

It was only much later, when I noticed that Christine seemed to have settled into a peaceful sleep, that I realized, thunderstruck, that Nadir had seen my uncovered face for the very first time, and had made no comment. Neither had he recoiled in horror.

"Closer than a brother," I whispered huskily to myself, almost overcome with emotion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Erik the Phantom, yet, he owns and obsesses me...Neither do I own the rest of the characters. Their lives, however, have woven themselves into my own, and they live in me, to henceforth create their world anew...**

**A/N: To those writers out there who have invented other women for Erik, and have even mentioned him having affairs with others before rejoining Christine, I say this: it's a free country, and you may write whatever you wish. As for _this _author, she entirely disagrees with you all. Erik has _always_ belonged, and will _always_ belong, to Christine. Furthermore, he was a virgin before he met her, and will remain such until he either marries her, or goes to bed with her first, afterwards marrying her. This course of events depends entirely on the phan writer. He simply has no room for anyone else in his heart, and I believe it would be quite out of character for him to have sex with another woman purely for the pleasure derived from the physical act alone. Erik is not like other men. When he loves, he loves _totally, _body and soul. And he loves only _one _woman in this consuming manner. Her name is Christine Daae. There! I feel so much better now...**

**Chapter 3: At Long Last Love...**

_Christine_

Years have passed since the fateful events of that day at the Opera House, and yet, the memories are so fresh... I saw a man's heart torn to pieces and bleed before my eyes. I saw a man, whose face belied his inner, tormented beauty, look upon me with eyes that loved with an all-consuming intensity. And I betrayed that man. I betrayed him, yes, because he terrified me. He wanted everything from me, and I lacked the courage to give it to him...So I allowed the choice to be taken from me, and left him there, in his own tortured world beneath the Opera House, while I fled with another, one whose love was but a feeble candle flickering in the wind. I was leaving the raging fire of a love that knew no bounds...

Now I lay on a strange bed, burning with fever,while he helplessly sat and watched over me. I was aware of his presence at some level of my mind. Tormenting dreams attacked me on that bed. I had contracted the fever due to my drenching in the lake, and must have been delirious. I do not remember all that I dreamed, but one scene in particular still lives in my memory.

_I had returned to Erik, but this time, he was not alone. He was trying desperately to fend off the mob swarming all around him. He was holding a flaming torch in his hands, which he constantly swept out and around himself, trying to keep them all at bay. I stood some feet away from him, screaming his name, but he could not hear me, as I was encased in some type of glass enclosure that prevented all sound from escaping. I screamed and screamed his name, trying frantically to move towards him. It was impossible. Finally, I screamed out, as loudly as I could: "Erik, I love you!" Still he could not hear me, and the mob was inexorably closing in on him..._

_Erik_

She tossed to and fro on the bed, whispering something I could not hear. Bending over her in concern, I felt her brow. It was quite hot. The fever still had her firmly in its hold. She had also begun to shiver uncontrollably, and yet, she was also sweating profusely. My anguish grew so, that I had to stand up and walk over to the window, praying as I went. In these moments in which my beloved lay unconscious, I vigorously thrust aside my hostility towards that awe-inspiring Being I had despised for so long. Nadir would have been most surprised, had he been with me during those frantic instants.

I prayed as I had never prayed before, earnestly asking Him to save her, as she was my life. Were she to die, I knew my own life would inevitably progress toward the grave. I could never love another. She was mine, and so I told Him. I even acknowledged that He, in His omnipotent mercy, had placed her in my life.

I was completely helpless. All I could do was to try to keep her warm, and stay by her side. So I came back to the bed, and put another blanket over her, tenderly. My eyes filled up with tears.

"Master, I have no right to ask You, but do not take her from me..." Sitting on the bed, I put my head in my hands, and wept as I had never wept before.

Again she spoke. This time, I distinctly heard my name. She seemed to be calling out to me from a great distance. Swiftly I searched under the blankets for her cold, little hand.

"Christine, I am here, my love. I am here, at your side. Can you hear me?"

She continued to toss and turn, but was silent. I continued to speak to her, telling her over and over how much I loved her, and wanted to make her my wife.

Suddenly, she smiled, her eyes still closed. It was a smile such as an angel would produce. Then, quite distinctly, I heard her say, her voice as clear as if she had been awake, "Erik, I love you..."

I was totally undone...I pressed her palm to my lips, kissing it tenderly. She did not awaken, but seemed to sigh, and settled into a more peaceful sleep, although her skin still felt warm to the touch. I decided I could not restrain myself any longer, and did what I had been longing to do for hours. The bed was large enough for two people. I went around to the other side, moved aside the blanket, and got in beside her, tucking both of us in snugly. Carefully, I took her into my arms, lightly bestowing a kiss on her hot forehead. Thus was I cradling her when sleep overtook me.

_Christine_

_He could not hear me, and I knew he would die. Then I would die, too...we would be buried by the insanity of the mob, there, at the very bottom of the Opera House... _

I cannot recall what happened afterward. I could no longer see the terrible scene. I was floating now, in what seemed to be a rolling orange sea that cradled me. I felt a wonderful warmth suddenly envelop me, bringing a sweet peace with it. I merely floated, content, and knew that I was cared for. This seemed strangely reminiscent of something, a whole alien world that I could not place... Then I knew. I remembered. This was like the safe, sheltering ocean of my mother's womb...

I do not know how long I lay thus, on fire from the fever, and yet, peaceful and content. Erik later told me that I burned all that night, and well into the next day. It was late afternoon when a change took place.

I now felt an icy cold invade my limbs. Still unconscious, I had no way of knowing that I had been placed in a bathtub filled with ice, so as to bring down the stubborn fever. It was a welcome coldness, after the fever's inferno. It was cold, bitterly so...

I remember opening my eyes at last to Erik's worried face, bending over mine. I was looking straight into his golden eyes. Immediately, I lost myself in them, and did not want to return to whatever world I was now living in. He then did something I had not often seen him do. He smiled. My heart lurched dangerously, and I whispered, "My love, your smile will be my undoing, as the fever was not." He chuckled merrily at this little joke, and, bending his face lower, kissed me fully on the lips. I closed my eyes with pleasure, wishing I could wind my arms around his neck, but I was still too weak to do so. I had to be content with the glorious touch of those lips on my own. He then did something else that was even more astonishing: he lay fully on top of me, putting his arms around me, and kissed me more deeply, his tongue plundering my mouth with the greatest ardor. Even though I was only clad in a thin nightgown, which I imagined he himself had placed on me, I was not alarmed. It was a very pleasant sensation, having him on top of me like that. He was fully clothed, after all, and I could understand the desperate love that had driven him to do this.

He slowly broke the kiss, and, with his elbows propped on the bed, gazed down on my face for a couple of minutes. His own face had taken on a truly beatific expression. At length he sighed contentedly, and laid his head on my left shoulder, his arms still around me. We lay thus in silence for several more minutes, and then he rolled over on his side. He burrowed under the blankets until his body was right next to my own, and cradled me once more in his arms.

"Sleep, my angel," he murmured lovingly as he stroked my hair. "I shall not leave you. You need to rest. Sleep, and I shall sleep with you, forever, if need be."

When once again I awoke, I felt his hand caressing my hair, the warmth of his body next to mine. I turned my face to his, and met his eyes, those beautiful, golden eyes that had always fascinated me with their intense depths. He wore no mask, and his face was dearer to me because of it. I could not take my eyes from his. Unblinkingly we looked at each other, until at last, turning on his side, he drew me closer, and gently laid a feathery kiss upon my lips. I opened them to him, and he took them, gently at first, then with increasing urgency. My body was now entirely pressed to his. He embraced me tightly, and began to whisper my name, over and over, while I clasped my arms around his waist. He broke the kiss, and, still with his lips on mine, whispered, "I cannot think what I would have done if I had lost you, my love..."

"But you didn't," I whispered back, smiling at him. I was immensely delighted when he smiled back, tremulously.

He began to cover my face with desperate little kisses, murmuring my name again, while I lay in his arms, totally content. At last he stopped, gazing into my eyes once more.

"Why, Christine?" he asked, his voice breaking, as the tears began to gather at his eyelids. "Why did you leave with him? And why did you come back?"

I felt the full force of his pain as if it were my own. I would never forgive myself, I was sure, for having hurt him so deeply.

"Forgive me, my angel," I whispered, with some difficulty. "Would that I could take it all back, relive the last few days. Forgive me. I could not help but be terrified by you. Raoul..."

There was a flash of anger in his eyes, and he pressed his hand over my mouth.

"Christine, do not mention that name in my presence," he said, through clenched teeth. Then he hastily removed his hand.

"I...am sorry, my love," he said, as he looked into my eyes with regret. "I did not mean to be rough with you."

I smiled, just as shakily as he had earlier. He had startled me for a moment, but no harm had been done. "It's all right, Erik. I, too, am sorry. I should have known better than to bring up his name. But you _did _ask me why I had left with him..."

"I know I do indeed terrify you. I will henceforth try to control this fiery temper I have been cursed with. But I cannot completely rid myself of it."

He sighed, then, and turned to lie on his back, releasing me. "Perhaps you were right in leaving with him, after all. The fact remains that I am a monster, in body and soul. Ah, I had conveniently forgotten...a murderer, as well."

I threw myself on his chest, passionately crying out, "No, Erik! Do not condemn yourself so! You are what you are, and I love you thus! I came to realize it as I was leaving in the boat. We are destined to be together. I must ever remain with you, my love."

He turned to me again, and smiled at me tenderly. "How can this miracle be? You do not fear me, Christine?"

"Yes," I answered, quite honestly. "I suppose there will be times that I will fear you. But I know that you cannot hurt me, is that not so?"

"I would rather die first," he said passionately, taking up my hand and kissing the palm. I shivered in delight.

He sighed again. "I may never be able to hurt you physically, my love, but my words...they are another matter. My words are like daggers, and I am afraid you may feel their slashing cruelty from time to time." His eyes took on a sad cast as he said this.

I smiled, for I could not bear to see him torturing himself. "All lovers quarrel, Erik. At times, they say things to each other that they have often regretted afterward. I scarcely think that we shall part because of such inanities."

He could not say anything in reply, for he was too overcome with emotion. He simply put a hand on my cheek, caressing it softly, then gently pulled my head down, so that it lay on his chest. It was thus that Nadir found us.

_Erik_

Never had I been less glad to see that man suddenly appear, showing his face in the doorway. He took in the scene, then, without a single comment, silently withdrew.

"Nadir!" I called after him.

He appeared once again in the doorway. "I do believe I am intruding, Erik," he said, stiffly.

"Nonsense, man!" I remonstrated, as I sat up, gently untangling myself from Christine's arms. "There is nothing glaringly immoral going on at the moment.''

"I see," he replied, not convinced at all. "Since you seem inclined to speak, I should very much like to have a word with you." So saying, he disappeared around the doorway again.

I groaned, and turned to look down at Christine, who had been calmly looking on, a little smile playing about her lips.

"Please excuse me, my love. My 'conscience' urgently desires to deliver a little cautionary sermon to me at this time."

She smiled indulgently. I picked up one of her little hands, and breathed a soft kiss upon it. Then I stood up, and went to the living room, where Nadir awaited me.

As I entered, he started on me immediately.

"Now you shall explain to me what you intend to do with this girl once and for all, Erik. This is insufferable! You kidnap her, you bring an immense chandelier down upon unsuspecting, innocent people, and then you have the audacity to bring her here, to my home!"

"For which I am most grateful, my dear daroga," I replied smoothly. "As you yourself saw, I had no better alternative. She was on fire with fever. I could not leave her thus, while the mob approached my home. As for kidnapping her, you are entirely wrong, my friend."

At this, I saw him bristle, but I silenced him with a hand.

"Please allow me to continue. Yes, I did snatch her from the stage, and brought her to my home. But her little suitor came after her. How valiant of him! She chose him over me, and even returned the ring that I had given her. I allowed them to depart, for I suddenly had no desire to force her to live with me, if she truly did not love me. It seemed to me that her sole reason for agreeing to remain with me was to save her little Vicomte's life. This despite the kiss she gave me before I let them both go, daroga! They were leaving in the little boat that I keep by the lakeshore, and had even gone through the trellised gate that I had raised for them to go through. I watched them disappear through that gate, as my heart bled within me...The Vicomte was rowing her away, out of my life forever...Ah, but she seemed unable to tear her eyes from mine, daroga, even as he rowed her further along the lake, toward the hidden entrance. When I could no longer see them, I fell to my knees, giving full vent to my horrible despair...Then...the incredible happened! She came back, daroga. I tell you, she came back to me! She had jumped over the side of the boat, and somehow came back to me, apparently swimming through the lake, and sloshing along on foot when it became too shallow for swimming."

The daroga had listened to my every word, spellbound. At some point, his mouth opened of its own accord, and he stood thus, gaping at me.

"She came back to you of her own _free will_? You did not manipulate her in any way? Swear it to me, Erik!"

I stared at him, anger beginning to rise in me. But this was Nadir, who knew me quite well. He was also the closest thing I had to a relative.

"I swear it to you, daroga," I answered, very softly. Then I added, "She even saved my life."

"How? What did she do?"

I sighed. "My friend, I had been about to put an end to my miserable existence with my trusty, fully-loaded pistol. She walked in at that moment, and found me with the pistol to my head." I shuddered, remembering.

I was satisfied to see the shock on his face. "She loves me, Nadir. She has finally chosen. The monster is saved by love in the end!" I chuckled at my own sarcasm, still disbelieving. "I am still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ah, but perhaps it never will!"

"And what do you intend to do now, Erik?" he gently persisted, after a short pause.

"Do?" I snorted. The question was totally ridiculous. "Why, I intend to marry her, of course!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I did not create these characters, unfortunately. If I had, Christine would have realized right off the bat that it was Erik her heart chose...**

**Chapter 4: The Union of Two Enamored Souls**

_Christine_

The fever had taken a heavy toll on my body, and I knew I would have to remain in bed for at least another day or two, perhaps three. Erik tended to my needs with all the solicitousness of a mother hen, making sure I ate properly, and even bathing me himself...He discharged this last duty with great tenderness, but I was well aware of the effect it had on him. I, too, felt sweetly and powerfully aroused by his loving ministrations; I endeavored to remain almost indifferent, however. Yet, he must have noticed that I was not entirely so. How could I be, when he scrubbed me with the soap and hand towel in such a maddeningly intoxicating manner?

On the afternoon of the third day, I gently told Erik that I thought I would be capable of bathing without his help. He insisted on doing it, protesting that it would be a great pleasure for him. Of this I had no doubt! I could have certainly been adamant about the matter, but a curious lassitude suddenly stole over my limbs, and so I allowed him to sweep me into his arms and carry me into the bathroom, where he almost reverently divested me of my nightgown, and very carefully placed me into the bathtub, which was already filled with warm water.

It became apparent at once that his intentions went beyond mere cleanliness...His eyes had taken on a glittering intensity as he gently soaped me, moving the hand towel much too slowly for the purpose it was meant for. I could hear the change in his breathing. Suddenly he stopped, staring at me with unmistakable desire in his eyes. I met his gaze calmly, feeling its heat, and allowing it to inundate me with a heady ecstasy, while I in turn expressed my love to him only with my eyes. Thus we gazed upon each other for a few moments, and I knew that he was, ironically, fighting for control. The space that separated us became charged with an almost unbearable tension...I did not think I could tolerate much more, as my breathing had become as labored as his. Just when I thought I would scream from the agony of not being captured in his arms, he spoke. It was only one word: my name, whispered with such longing, such contained desire, that I felt a wave of tenderness overtake me.

"Christine..."

"I will never love another as I love you, Erik," I whispered, as if answering an unstated plea.

With a low growl of pure male possessiveness, he stood, and bending down, scooped me from the bathtub, hastily wrapping me in a bedsheet he had previously brought into the bathroom, and grabbing a large towel to dry my body with. He then carried me into Nadir's bedroom, as we left a trail of water behind us. Neither one of us cared at the moment.

Nadir was out for the afternoon, a fact Erik had known, and which he now told me when I questioned him about the Persian. Ah, so he had planned this...he had decided to seduce me. A shiver of delight went through my body as I realized this.

He gently laid me on the bed, leaving enough room for himself next to me. Sitting down beside me, he proceeded to dry me thoroughly with the towel. When he had finished, he threw the towel across the room, where it landed on top of an armchair, and turned back to me. He remained sitting on the bed, studying me, while his heavy breathing betrayed the strength of the passion he was feeling. Oddly, he made no move to lie next to me, nor did he attempt to take me in his arms. This surprised me, as I had thought he would immediately continue with his cleverly planned seduction. I would not have stopped him. Indeed, my mind had temporarily deserted me, and I wanted only to feel. I wanted to feel his body on mine, to possess and be possessed by him, and the devil take the consequences! Madame Giry, had she but known, would have been aghast. I would not have cared.

He gazed at me steadily, for what seemed too long...Then, leaning over, he softly caressed my cheek with those incredibly beautiful, long fingers. I captured his hand, and, bringing it to my lips, kissed his palm. I would have brought it down lower on my body, but he resisted. That puzzled me.

"Christine..." His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. "Oh, my love, do you see the effect you have on me? Yet I wonder if I should take your innocence without further thought...I had indeed planned this, but now, I ask myself if I should follow through with it."

I smiled, tears beginning to gather at my eyelids. His concern for me was so touching... "I want to be entirely yours, Erik."

His eyes widened, in a mixture of love, desire, and something which I would never have expected to see: fear. Sighing, he took my hand in both of his, and pressed it to his heart.

"You would not wish to be married first, my sweet angel?" he asked, staring deeply into my eyes, his own eyes glowing with the intensity of the feelings he strove to hold in check. "This was really not a good idea. I would prefer you to be my wife, not my mistress."

The tears began slipping from my eyes. I gave him my most loving smile, and answered, "Will you consider leaving me after I have given you my virtue? Will you consider me a fallen woman, and abandon your plans to marry me?"

Lifting my hand to his lips, he kissed it with deep love. "Never, my Christine. If you can love a murderer, I can love a woman who has given herself to the man who will soon be her husband."

I smiled again, and opened my arms to him. "Come to me, my beloved," I said, with barely contained emotion.

His sharp intake of breath told me everything -- how much he loved and cared for me, how beautiful I was in his eyes, how precious this act of intimacy was to him. With the greatest tendernesss, he came to me, covering my mouth with his, to give me the sweetest, lingering kiss. I closed my eyes, entirely surrendering to him, body and soul...

_Erik_

In all the years of my horribly distorted life, I could not have imagined that such happiness as this was available to mortal beings. To clasp in my arms the beloved of my dreams, to whisper tender love words to her, to watch her passionate, yet shy, response to my caressess, was more intoxicating than the strongest liquor...We loved each other with a gentle, yet fierce, possession, giving and receiving pleasure with the utmost joy. We made our vows to each other in the heated exchange of kisses, with no other witnesses but ourselves and the God who had thrust us into the mystery of existence. But then, as we continued to kiss and stroke, I whispered to her that we would be repeating these vows before a priest as soon as we were able to find one. I could not possibly tolerate Christine not being officially my wife, as I did not want her to suffer the stigma society attached to a man's mistress.

Once she had gotten past the pain of the first joining, she was able to truly enjoy the experience. I was still very much in my prime, being but thirty-six. Even though the act of lovemaking was as much a novelty for me as it was for her, I was able to satisfy her more than once.

Much later, as she lay in my arms, sighing with contentment, I stroked her beautiful hair, and softly sang to her. She nestled even closer to me, rubbing her delectable body against mine, and I knew there could not possibly be another pair of lovers in the world as ecstatically happy as we two were. I alternately sang and spoke to her, telling her things she did not yet know about me. I intentionally avoided speaking about sad events, however. I did not want to shatter the peace and loving intimacy of the moment. Neither did I allude to the very recent events at the Opera House. It was as if we now existed in an entirely different world, and were, indeed, different people ourselves. I told her about my travels in Russia, as I went about from town to town, following the gypsy fairs. I spoke about my mentor in Italy, avoiding all mention of Luciana, and of the tragedy that had taken her young life. I made her laugh at times, while at others, her mouth opened in amazement, and, in an awed whisper, she asked me just _how_ I had managed to perform a certain magical act.

The hours passed swiftly, as always happens when one feels most deeply, and experiences the most happiness. The sun began to lower itself into the horizon, as I could see from its dimming light outside the window. We gradually grew silent, and simply lay in each other's arms, enjoying the closeness that is the aftermath of lovemaking. I still could not cease to be amazed. That this beautiful, sensitive woman should not only consent to kiss a monster such as myself, but also freely engage in the most exquisite physical intimacy with him, was just too overwhelming for me. As I lay there, with my Christine in my arms, the wonder, the beauty, of what we had just shared expressed itself in tears that began uncontrollably rolling down my cheeks. I sighed, humbled by the love we felt for each other.

I am not sure what awakened me. We had both fallen asleep. Indeed, Christine still slept. I stirred slightly, carefully raising my head so as not disturb my sleeping angel. I was not entirely surprised to see a familiar figure in the bedroom doorway, barely visible in the gathering darkness. Just as suddenly as I had noticed him, he disappeared, and I fell back upon the pillow, groaning inwardly. I decided I was not up to another of his lectures at the moment, so I allowed myself to drift back to sleep...

_Christine_

The sunlight was bathing the room in glorious gold tones as I awoke, at first wondering where I was. I instinctively turned my head on the pillow, and beheld my sleeping Erik. A smile stole over my face as I watched him sleep. The memories of our lovemaking the day before returned to me, and I felt a sudden rush of love for this man who had suffered so terribly, and who had at last been granted happiness.

He slept soundly, on his back. His arms were flung above his head, the disfigured side of his face turned toward me. How I loved that face, with its strange combination of hideous distortion and other-worldly beauty! I loved both sides of it. I especially yearned to caress those twisted folds of flesh, that scarred cheek, but I did not wish to disturb his deep, peaceful slumber. Long I looked on him thus, as his beautiful, naked chest gently rose and fell with his peaceful breathing. I suddenly remembered, as if from a very great distance, the shocking, violent events that had transpired at the underground lake. I remembered the face of a man who had also professed great love for me. I had actually decided to leave with that man, choosing safety and security over passionate love. In fear, I had allowed myself to be swept along by events. Fortunately, I had finally realized what I needed to do -- return to my longtime tutor, who had become the love of my life. I was all of eighteen years old, and Raoul, twenty-five. Erik was quite a bit older than the two of us. Yet our ages hardly mattered. It was the kind of love each man offered that had made my choice so intolerably difficult. In the end, I chose the path of risk over that of security. I had seen that Erik, in spite of the terrible things I knew he had done, had the nobler, more loving soul.

I was aware that his temper was, at times, uncontrollable. I knew that I should be very much afraid of him. Yet, I had come back to him because he possessed another quality that more than made up for the rage that could overtake him at any given moment. He loved me with every breath that he took, every beat of his strong heart, indeed, every fiber of his being. I would take my chances with him. I was already sure that he would never truly harm me.

Slipping out of bed, I wound one of the bedsheets around me, and hunted around for something to cover myself with. There was a large, elaborately designed trunk in one corner of the room. I had not noticed it before. This was not surprising, since I had been bed-ridden with a fever for several days. I now went up to it, curiously. Throwing back the lid, I discovered various articles of women's clothing. I marveled at this, since, as far as I knew, Nadir did not have a wife. A mistress, perhaps? It was only much later that Erik explained that Nadir entertained female guests from time to time. None ever stayed with him for long. When I asked if he were averse to marriage, Erik sighed, and sadly told me how very much Nadir had loved his wife, who had died years before.

Rummaging around in the trunk, I finally found a garment that was much to my liking, as well as more intimate apparel. They were exquisitely fashioned of the most delicate, yet strong material, woven into colorful designs. I hastily donned the clothes, hoping that Nadir would not decide to appear at the doorway, as he seemed wont to do. I also found some beautifully embroidered Persian slippers in the trunk, which I also put on. Then, straightening and taking a deep breath, I ventured into the living room of the apartment.

He was kneeling on a Persian rug, facing east, and his body was bowed forward in prayer; indeed, so far forward, that his forehead nearly touched the floor. I had no wish to disturb him. Erik had at one point told me that Nadir was a Moslem, but I was not familiar with the rituals and prayers of that religion. I only vaguely knew that it had something to do with a god named Allah.

I tiptoed over to the side, and found a large, intricately embroidered cushion on the floor, by the wall opposite the praying Persian. I sat down on it, waiting for him to finish his prayer. I could hear him muttering something in a foreign tongue. On and on he droned, and I sat there, waiting for him, as I brought back to mind the sweet intoxication of yesterday's afternoon...

At length, Nadir finished his little ritual, and straightened slowly. He became aware of my presence at once. Turning, he smiled briefly at me, then stood up and stretched with a yawn.

"Well, good morning," he said, very pleasantly. "Have you said your prayers yet?"

Blushing, I ducked my head, shaking it. He must have known that I had not. Indeed, he had no idea whether I ever engaged in such activities. He knew as little about me as I did about him. What, then, had he meant by such a question?

"Ah, I should not ask you such a thing," he continued, as if aware of my thoughts. "Instead, I shall ask you this: did he force you to do anything you did not want to do of your own free will?"

I lifted my head, and looked straight at him. "No, he did not," I answered firmly.

He considered my answer for a moment, regarding me pensively. "Very well, then," he finally said. "This means you gave yourself to him because you really wanted to."

"Is that so very hard to believe?" I asked, a hint of bitterness in my voice.

"No, mademoiselle, it is not," he said softly, aware that his statement had hurt me. "But I have known Erik for a very long time now. He is ruthless when it comes to getting his own way."

"Erik would never do anything to me without my consent," I retorted sharply.

"Forgive me, mademoiselle. I did not mean to imply..."

"Just _what_ did you mean to imply, then, my dear daroga?" The voice of my beloved Erik, commanding as ever, came from the entrance to the room. My heart leaped. There he stood, lazily leaning against the wall, already dressed in black trousers and flowing, immaculately white shirt, which lay open at the neck. There was no mistaking the power coiled in him, even without his mask.

"Why, my dear Erik!" exclaimed the Persian, whirling round to face him. "And a very good morning to you, as well!"

"Come now, Nadir! Why were you interrogating my betrothed? What is it you are leading up to now?"

The Persian smiled slowly, shrugging his shoulders. "Your reputation precedes you, my dear Phantom. Ah, yes, I knew something was lacking." So saying, he turned, and went over to a small trunk almost hidden by two huge cushions in another corner of the room. He threw open the lid, and produced a porcelain object, which he extended toward Erik.

"Your mask, sir," he said, with a little bow.

Erik chuckled in surprise. "You went back to get this, daroga?"

"But of course, Monsieur!"

"Thank you," said Erik, pleased. Some of the tension seemed to evaporate then. He sighed, and put on the mask. "Well, Nadir, I must acknowledge that I am in your debt yet again. I don't know how I can ever repay you for everything..."

"Come, Erik! You need not thank me," the Persian interrupted abruptly. "There is one thing you can do for me, however."

"Pray tell, what may that be?" Erik inquired, in a joking manner.

"Why, that you do your duty by this young lady here as soon as possible."

Erik started to laugh, a genuine, rip-roaring belly laugh. I looked at him, happily amazed, for I had never heard him laugh like this, the way other people laughed. It meant that he was truly happy. I smiled joyfully at them both.

"My dear daroga," said Erik, still shaking with laughter. "Have I not indicated already that I have every intention of doing so? Would you by any chance know any priests that could perform the ceremony at a moment's notice?"

He then looked over at me. "Christine, my sweet love," he murmured, walking over to me. "Did you sleep well, my angel?" Giving me his hand, he pulled me up and into his loving embrace.

"Wait a moment!" Nadir exclaimed, in a mock solemn tone. "We need to attend to our very hungry stomachs first!"

The three of us laughed heartily at this. Erik tucked me firmly under his arm, and we went into the dining area.

"Now, then," said Nadir, ceremoniously. "You shall both taste an authentic, Persian breakfast!" As he said this, he went into the kitchen to begin preparations. I offered to assist him, but he merrily waved me away, saying that my presence was obviously required elsewhere.

Erik and I laughed, our happiness overflowing. We sat as close as possible to each other, on floor cushions. I laid my head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly, as he put his arm around me. He kissed the top of my head, and I felt his fingers moving down to caress my cheek.

"We must find a priest as soon as you are able to get about, my love," he whispered tenderly into my hair. I trembled deliciously, and, turning in his arms, looked into his mesmerizing, golden eyes.

"Must we wait much longer, Erik?" I asked, ever so softly. "Perhaps we could find someone this very day."

Leaning forward, he gave me a brief kiss, then smiled at me, as he rested his forehead on mine. "My sweet angel, I'm not sure that you are strong enough as yet."

I firmly assured him that I was.

"Well, then," he said, smiling broadly. "Would you like to go seek one out as soon as we are done consuming Nadir's delicious repast?"

My smile was answer enough for him. Then, I suddenly frowned. "Erik...you may be recognized by someone. The police..."

"That will not be a problem at all!" Nadir's voice came booming from the kitchen. "We shall dress him up as a Persian!"

"Nadir!" exclaimed Erik, laughing. "You're like an old, gossipy woman, always eavesdropping!"

"It's all in the nature of a daroga's work, my esteemed friend!" Nadir answered, laughing as well. "I hope you are preparing your European palates for a mouthwatering feast, worthy of the shah himself!"

Erik and I looked at each other again, smiling into each other's eyes. I suddenly leaned back into him, and he rocked me gently, as he firmly locked his arms around me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything at all related to the Phantom, except, of course, my written creations that portray a different ending to this timeless drama...**

**Chapter 5: The Tell-tale Mask**

_Christine_

The food was indeed delicious, and Nadir had not taken long to prepare it. It was very simple fare, in spite of the exotic names. There was _lavash_, which was a type of Persian bread, spread with a cheese similar to feta, called _panir._ Then there was _sabzi-khordan_, which consisted of a large platter of raw vegetables and fresh herbs, such as cilantro and coriander. In the center of the platter were several chunks of the same delicious cheese. Nadir also laid out a small bowl, containing _asal _(honey), as well as a larger bowl filled with brown rice. Another large platter presented slabs of savory fish. All this was accompanied by fragrantly smelling tea.

Erik chuckled heartily when he saw the various dishes finally displayed on the table. At my request, he had removed his mask, albeit reluctantly. I had nevertheless managed to convince him that it would be more comfortable for him to eat without it.

"You were expecting company, perhaps, my dear daroga?" he pleasantly inquired. "This is indeed a repast! We are honored!"

Nadir emerged from the kitchen, and smiling, bowed.

"I did, of course, have some help," he confessed, as Darius also emerged from the kitchen. He suddenly caught sight of Erik's face, and his own froze in horror.

I immediately looked over at Erik, who was seated on the cushion next to mine. He had straightened up, and was staring back at Darius, his expression rather ominous. I glanced from one to the other, hoping Erik would not erupt in anger.

_Erik_

It was the first time I had seen him since the days of Mazenderan...

Darius looked at my face, aghast. Indeed, he could not take his eyes off my infernally twisted visage. I could feel the anger rising in me, the wish to take his scrawny little neck in my large killer's hands, and squeeze the life from him. In fact, I could even anticipate the intense pleasure I would feel as I did it. It was then that I became aware of another pair of eyes looking at me, silently pleading -- the eyes of my beloved Christine. I could not betray the innocent trust that still lay in her gaze. I was at once struck by the gut-wrenching knowledge that, were I to harm any human being, I would be harming her as well. At that point, I took a deep breath, and merely contented myself with smiling awkwardly at the apparently mesmerized Darius.

"You have never seen me without my mask, as I remember," I managed to utter. "But perhaps you do not remember me at all."

As if coming out of a trance, the servant nervously nodded. "It is true, Monsieur. I had never seen you without your mask. Ah, but your voice...that is another matter. I would never forget such a distinctive voice."

There was a short, rather strained silence, as I swallowed, not knowing how to answer. Nadir, as always, came to my rescue.

"You do remember, do you not, Darius, how Erik eased my little Reza's departure from this world? For that, I owe him everything."

Darius assented, then, turning to me, softly added, "My apologies, Monsieur, at my reaction. I have seen many marvels in my days, especially at the shah's palace, but none to compare with...well, I do recall the many incredible things you yourself did..." His voice trailed off in embarrasment.

Turning back to Nadir, he muttered, "If you will excuse me, Monsieur, I do have other duties to attend to..."

"Nonsense, man!" exclaimed the daroga, slapping him on the back. "You shall sit and partake of the fruit of our labors! Do not let our dear friend's face intimidate you. You shall get used to it in time."

Nervously, Darius took his seat, trying hard not to stare at me. After a short time, however, he began to relax. I, too, felt my tension begin to dissipate, and actually was able to enjoy the meal. My thoughts returned to my sweet little soprano, who sat at my side. I had heard her sigh of relief as I controlled my rising rage. I had noticed that she sometimes had a calming influence on me. Perhaps, as we spent more time together, my fits of rage would become less and less frequent. After all, happiness, when continually frustrated, turns to angry, bitter, hatred that festers in the soul, ready to erupt at a moment's notice. My happiness had at last arrived, and laid claim to my heart. As I became accustomed to its healing ecstasy, the bitterness and the hatred, I hoped, would finally be purged.

We had just finished our most excellent meal when, quite unexpectedly, there was a rather loud knock at the door. Christine and I exchanged glances, and she grasped my hand. Nadir immediately arose, and putting a finger to his lips, motioned for Christine and I to follow him quickly. Darius remained seated, calmly eating as if nothing unusual were going on.

We followed Nadir into the living room, where he pulled up the large Persian rug that lay right in the middle of it. We looked at him, puzzled. There was nothing but the bare wood floor underneath the rug. Leaning down, he felt along one of the beams of the floor. He seemed to locate something, then his finger momentarily disappeared beneath the beam itself. Incredibly, he pulled up an entire section of the floor, which served as a door. Again we heard the knock, louder this time.

I smiled. "Why, Nadir!" I exclaimed softly in surprise. "Unbeknownst to me, I had acquired an apprentice!"

Nadir smiled rather smugly, although he made no comment to that. He then pushed me down into the aperture that had opened up for us. There were several steps leading down to...a small storeroom, perhaps? The daroga assisted Christine down after me. We felt him closing the "door" upon us, thrusting us into total darkness. There was not much room to move around in, and we had to kneel very close together in order to fit in the space at all.

The knock had now become a very loud, insistent pounding. We also heard muffled shouts of _"Ouvrez la porte! C'est la surete de Paris!"_ I was not surprised at all. There had been no doubt in my mind that the other shoe would drop, after all. Christine tried to suppress a shriek, and succeeded in turning it into a small squeal. We then heard Nadir undo the bolts on the apartment door, throwing it open.

_"Bonjour, messieurs!"_ he merrily exclaimed. "And how did your incredibly perceptive noses manage to lead you to my bounteous repast?"

The detective who entered must have given him a dour look, for his answer to this greeting was anything but pleasant.

"Come, you fool, let me pass! We want the masked man, and we want him now! Where have you hidden him?"

We heard his booming steps upon the floor. Other steps followed. No doubt the detective was accompanied by one or more gendarmesI was holding Christine's hand, and she suddenly squeezed mine, snuggling closer to me. I protectively put an arm around her. She had started to shake, and I whispered soothingly to her.

"Nadir!" cried another voice at this point. Its owner was evidently surprised to see the daroga. As well he might be, for they knew each other! My heart now began its own furious pounding, and again I felt my anger rise. That voice was hateful to me. It was the voice of one who had almost been able to win my beloved's heart. It was that wretched boy! Christine gasped in surprise as well, but, fortunately, the sound was barely audible.

"This is indeed a surprise, _Vicomte_," replied Nadir smoothly. I had often thought that he had missed his calling. He was a born diplomat. He should have been commissioned to deal with potentates and dignitaries, instead of supervising police investigations.

The boy, for such I must contemptuously call him, wasted no time on preliminaries. "Is she...here, Nadir?" he inquired breathlessly. Oh, how I hated the agonized tone in his voice! It was the tone of the suffering lover, one I knew quite well! Had I not suffered for the love of the beautiful woman whose heart I now knew was mine? My anger rose still further. No one could possibly have the right to suffer as _I_ had suffered, for the sake of Christine! I stirred uneasily as the extremely cramped condition I was now forced to be in played upon my nerves, along with the little drama that was taking place above my head. Christine felt my discomfort, and laid a soothing hand upon my marred cheek.

The daroga did not hesitate, replying immediately. He did not, however, tell an outright lie. I think him utterly incapable of lying in any way whatsoever.

"She is with Erik," he said effortlessly. "She is safe, I assure you, Monsieur."

The young aristocrat sighed loudly. Apparently he was not quite satisfied with this answer. "How can I know that she is safe, daroga? You know very well what that monster is capable of! She...she left me so suddenly! He must have been exerting his control over her with that damnable voice of his! I don't believe she would have willingly gone to him. I shall not be at ease until he is captured!"

"Monsieur," commented Nadir, in a slightly frosty tone, "I do object to your use of the word 'monster' to describe Erik. I myself have long ceased to refer to him as such. Surely you must be aware of the great love he feels for Christine. He would never harm her. I have known him for quite some time, and I can lay your mind to rest on that matter."

"Lay my mind to rest, you say. daroga?" the wretched boy inquired sarcastically. "She does not belong to him. Why are you speaking thus to me? Have you forgotten the horrors of the torture chamber we both shared?"

Nadir sighed, and I could almost see him shaking his head. "No, indeed, Monsieur, I have not. Yet, I have seen another side of Erik that you obviously have not. I had despaired of ever seeing it again, since my little son..." Here he was unable to continue, and we heard him walk away. The boy's steps followed close behind.

We barely heard the sound of footsteps as the detective and his companions apparently went from room to room of the spacious apartment, looking for clues. Christine whispered something about the trunk full of women's clothing, in Nadir's bedroom, but I was able to quiet her fears. The men who were searching the apartment were aware of the physical needs of a fellow male. They would not raise an eyebrow at the discovery that Nadir had female "friends" who frequently stayed with him for several days...

We heard the detective's voice again, coming closer. "Very well, Monsieur. It does not appear that they were even here in the past few days. I do not understand how we could have been notified that he had been seen entering your building, with a woman in his arms, a woman whom we presumed must be Christine Daae." He shifted uncomfortably. "I must...apologize, Monsieur, for this intrusion. We will continue our search..."

He was interrupted, at that very moment, by a startled exclamation from an adjoining room. It was clearly the voice of the blasted little _vicomte_. His steps now approached the group standing near the door.

"So, now, daroga!" he exclaimed, triumphantly. "You must truly devise a clever explanation for this! How is it that the Phantom's mask is in your possession?"

Christine and I both gasped, grabbing each other's hands and gripping them tightly. Surely now we would be discovered!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own none of these wonderful characters...why is life so unfair?**

**Chapter 6: Two 'Gentlemen' of Paris**

_Erik_

I should have known that my dear daroga would take the situation in hand. I could picture him calmly facing that gloating, infuriating little aristocrat with unflappable dignity.

"My dear Vicomte," he replied, his voice smooth as silk. "What if I had merely been interested in salvaging a souvenir from the disaster at the Opera House?"

The boy snorted, obviously angered by such an explanation.

"A souvernir, Nadir?" he all but sneered. "Come, now, just _why_ would you want a souvenir, to remind you of what you went through at the Phantom's hands? You must surely fabricate a more convincing story, my friend!"

Nadir was not intimidated in the least by this outburst.

"Monsieur, why would I not want a souvenir of such a fascinating personage? But there is more to it than that, my boy...I have an exceedingly good reason for wanting such a souvenir! The man has vanished, and I would like to have a memento of him..."

"You are not explaining yourself very well, daroga!" The boy was raising his voice! Incredible! He had some spine, after all. I could not help but chuckle softly in the darkness. Christine stirred agaisnt me, chuckling as well.

Nadir let out an exasperated breath. "Oh, very well! I'll tell you! He was very kind to my little son, who was dying from a rare disease! He even eased his passing into the next world! There! What more would you know?"

We heard him cry out in anguish. There was a short silence.

"Nadir," said the maddeningly annoying Vicomte at length. "I...am sorry. I truly had not known...Yet how could such a mad killer have done such a thing?"

"You don't know him as I do!" burst out the daroga, his voice trembling. "He is not the monster you think him to be, I tell you! Now, will all of you please leave me and my servant to enjoy our breakfast in peace!"

The detective now spoke up. "Monsieur, I must ask you to accompany us. We need to question you further. Let me have the mask, if you please. You say you salvaged it? Just how did you accomplish this? It was madness after the outraged patrons overran the Phantom's lair. So the reports have informed me."

"I know how to enter the Opera House, dear sir. Erik was my friend, even though we...had some differences. I knew where he would have kept this particular mask, as he has several. I searched for it, and found it. That is all."

"I am sorry, Monsieur, but I must nevertheless take you to the police station. You may provide some useful information, since you seem to have been very close to him. Come."

From our cramped hiding place, we heard steps again, moving toward the door. It opened and closed, and then there was silence. Christine squeezed my hand. We both whispered the same question to each other: "Where is Darius?"

Now we abruptly heard a scratching noise immediately above our heads. There was a slight creak as the piece of wooden floor serving as a door was pulled up, and daylight flooded our little hideout. The manservant's grim face appeared at the aperture.

"They are gone, Mademoiselle, Monsieur," he needlessly informed us. "They have taken my master!" His face plainly showed his distress. Then he held his hand down into the darkness of the little storeroom, to help Christine up the steps.

I helped her to stand, and she ascended the steps rather stiffly, guided by Darius's hand. Then I went up, stiffly as well. We had been in there so long that our limbs had gone to sleep.

Darius pushed the "door" down, and pulled the rug over it, as Christine and I stretched out our limbs. Then he looked expectantly up at me. I noticed, wryly, that he no longer seemed to fear or be shocked by my face.

Christine, too, was looking expectantly at me. "What shall we do now, Erik?" I could not help but notice the anxiety in her voice, though she unsuccessfully tried to hide it.

I looked over at her. One of my hands went to her cheek, which I caressed, lingeringly. Her eyes held such trust in them! Was I truly deserving of it? What madness had I brought her into?

"My love," I answered, after pausing for a moment, "It seems we must leave this place as soon as possible. We are endangering Nadir. But we must wait for nightfall. We would be seen were we to attempt it now, in broad daylight."

Her eyes softened as she continued to stare at me. They told me that she would follow me anywhere.

"Monsieur," Darius interrupted. "She would be recognized immediately. She is very well-known in the city, so my master has told me."

I looked at him. "Surely, my friend, Nadir has some extra clothing we could both wear."

Darius assented. "Yes, he does, Monsieur. Come with me, and I will show you both."

As night fell softly over the Parisian streets, two elegantly dressed gentlemen were seen to emerge from a building on the _Rue des Anges_, as it was nicknamed. One appeared to be of foreign origin, as he was swathed in long, flowing garments. His face was partially covered by a turban. Those few who would have noticed paid them no heed, however. It was known in the neighborhood that a gentleman from Persia resided in the building. No one seemed to remember seeing that same gentleman exiting earlier, with the Parisian police, as well as a member of the aristocracy...

The foreigner's companion was a slender young boy, dressed as a proper French gentleman should be. His fashionable top hat, however, seemed to be just a tad too big for his head...

The two men walked leisurely along the street. It was a rather pleasant evening, although there was a slight chill in the air, which was not at all unusual for Paris. They were talking quietly, and went on for a couple of blocks before hailing a passing brougham. They then entered, and the brougham headed up the street, its horse also moving at a leisurely pace.

_Christine_

I could not help laughing as I looked over at Erik, who had now leaned back into his seat, unwinding the turban from around his face and head. Nadir's Persian attire had lent him a rather comical air, which now disappeared as the turban came off.

"Ah," he said, smiling at me, "it is good to hear you laugh. May I compliment you on your costume, 'Monsieur'? You look very dashing, indeed! That little mustache provides just the right touch!"

I had to laugh once more. I supposed I must have looked comical! I am sure that I appeared to be just a bit too young to be sporting a mustache. I now tore it off, and loosened the _cravat_ I was wearing. How could men complain about women wearing corsets, when their attire was in many ways just as confining? I wanted to get out of the vest, the shirt, all of it! The one thing I found oddly liberating was the trousers. They were quite comfortable.

"Are you aware of just how narrow an escape we have had, my dear?" he now inquired.

"Yes," I answered, a little breathless from the excitement of our little adventure. Then I was suddenly reminded of our friend, the daroga. "Poor Nadir! He will be forced to tell them the truth, and they will then arrest him for harboring a fugitive!"

Erik chuckled, which surprised me. How could he find any humor in Nadir's present situation? His friend had risked himself for him!

"Do not fear for our dear daroga, my love," he soothingly said, as he gathered me into his arms. "He is quite capable of managing such matters, I assure you. After all, he helped me escape from Persia, when my life was not worth a single French franc!"

I looked up at him, as I felt myself firmly enveloped in his masculine warmth. There was so much I still did not know about this man I loved so!

"Where are we going now, Erik?" I ventured to ask him.

"I have a solicitor who resides in London, but I believe he is currently staying at a hotel in Montmartre. He can arrange a transfer of funds from my bank here in Paris, to its London branch. How would you feel about being married in England?"

I was taken totally by surprise, as I lay in his arms, my head comfortably resting on his chest. Was there no end to the mystery of Erik, no end to his apparently limitless resources?

Reluctantly lifting my head from his chest, I regarded him steadily for a few seconds. "You must be a very wealthy man!" I blurted out.

He smiled, grimly. "Alas, no, my love. My wealth cannot compare to that of the blasted Vicomte. You have chosen a veritable pauper, in comparison. Yet, I have enough for us to be comfortable. We shall surely lack for nothing. And you shall definitely sing again, my dear! Your talent is not one to be hidden away! Not by any means!"

"Then, perhaps Italy or Germany would be a more suitable destination, Erik," I suggested, demurely.

He smiled broadly as he caressed my cheek, moving his hand slowly, sensuously, down to my lips, to gently trace their outline as his eyes burned into mine.

"That can also be arranged, my sweet, sweet, Miss Daae," he whispered, lust making his beautiful voice hoarse.

Dipping his head, he gently placed his lips on mine, moving his own in a deliciously torturing manner. Closing my eyes, I gave myself up to his sweetly intoxicating kiss. Our tongues met and danced together, as his arms tightened possessively about me...


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I have no legal rights to these immortal characters...but my imagination owns them, nevertheless...**

**A/N: It is truly amazing to me that Susan Kay's Phantom has presented the Erik that is most beloved by those of us who are totally obsessed with him. She is the one who has truly brought him to life! Sorry, Gaston, old boy, but you have been upstaged by a female! _Sacre Bleu!_ **

**Chapter 7: Almost Paradise**

_Christine_

That night was indescribably delicious. After traveling several miles away from Paris, we stopped at a roadside inn and acquired a room for the night. The sun's light was giving way to the darkening blue of early evening as we alighted from the brougham, and went into the inn. Erik was easily able to engage a room. The clerk who assisted us gave no sign that he found it odd for a man wearing Persian garments, and whose face was almost completely covered by a turban, to be in the company of an apparently very young man who barely looked old enough to shave.

Once up in our room, I began to light the gas jets. Erik stopped me after I had lit only one. I looked quizzically at him, and he gently took me into his arms.

"We really don't need much illumination, my love," he whispered, so sensuously that my knees threatened to give way. I gazed into his eyes, which glinted with the reflections from the gas jet. His gaze was so intense...I was totally absorbed in it. We breathed in unison. Slowly, then, he began to pull me toward him, chuckling suddenly as he became aware of my false mustache, which he very gently tugged off. I chuckled as well, and lovingly wrapped my arms about his neck. Our lips met, softly, oh, so sofly, so tenderly...We tasted each other at leisure, and he pulled me still closer to him, until I could feel the heat of his arousal.

"Christine..." His voice was a hoarse whisper of raw desire. "Christine..."

I sighed into his mouth, and he opened it for my tongue to enter, meeting it with his. I felt his arms tighten around me, just before he broke the kiss so that he could begin to undress me...

We loved each other throughout the night, finally falling asleep towards dawn. I nestled my body into his, pillowing my head on his chest, as I listened to his slowing heartbeat. The thought came to me: this is how married people fall asleep at the end of the day, comfortable with each other...

_Erik_

She fell asleep so trustingly, nestled in my arms, after giving me all of herself in the sweetest lovemaking... She drifted off without a care in the world, and my heart swelled with pride. I would do everything in my power to protect and take care of her. I would shelter that wonderful voice of hers, nurturing it with my own, until she was able to perform again. I was determined that she would resume her career, possibly in Italy or Germany, as she herself had suggested. This thought now took possession of my mind, and I suddenly found that I could not descend into sleep as placidly as she had. How would I make it possible for her to sing again? I might very well be captured, after all. What would I do, since I had solemnly vowed to her that I would never kill again, except, of course, in self defense, and then only as a last resort? These questions kept me awake for a long time, although I remained as still as possible so as not to disturb her. I was struck with wonder, as well. I continued to be shocked that I should have her thus, willingly in my arms. She had professed her love for me with her beautiful eyes, her perfect body, her innocent heart. And to me, a blackguard! I could only give her my own deep devotion in return, hoping that the arm of justice would not snatch me away from her...At last, I, too, fell asleep, as the rays of a new day slanted in through our window...

_Christine_

As I awoke, I became aware that my head was no longer pillowed on his chest. I sat up in mild panic, only to see him standing across the room, donning his Persian disguise. I smiled at the sight of Erik putting on the flowing robe, winding the turban about his face, leaving only his eyes in view. He suddenly became aware that I was looking in his direction, and glanced at me. The full force of that glance practically rendered me breathless. I would never tire of looking into those eyes that gave me a glimpse of his magnificent soul...they would never cease to mesmerize me.

"My sweet Christine," he murmured, his musical voice caressing my body, even without his accompanying touch. I closed my eyes, and sank back onto the bed, wanting him to come and take possession of me again. I heard him walk over to the bed, then sit next to me, and I felt his hand along the length of my unclothed torso.

"Yes, my love, I, too, would want to get lost in your embrace, but we must hasten to depart. We may not tarry for long. Even now, our pursuers may not be far behind."

I felt his trembling kiss upon my right shoulder as he spoke these words. Opening my eyes, I smiled into his. I allowed him to help me arise, and then went over to one of the armchairs, where I had laid my clothes the night before. I frowned involuntarily as I began to put them on. I must become a young 'man' again, when my entire being longed to be dressed as a woman, so I could grasp his hand, and look lovingly at him whenever the fancy took me...

He observed me, his amusement quite obvious. "Well, _ma petite_," he said, laughing. "You need not fear that you must continue to be my male friend for very long. I shall make sure you are properly attired as becomes your ravishing beauty, just as soon as we arrive at the nearest town. Although I may not be able to clothe you in Parisian style, you will definitely look like a female! And a very tantalizing one, at that!"

I blushed fiercely as he said this, which only served to add to his amusement. "Still my innocent little dove," he said softly. Then his mood shifted to become more serious and urgent.

"Come, we must leave," he said, entreating me to hurry.

I swiftly finished dressing myself, attempting to adjust the cravat, which made me uncomfortable. Erik laughed when he saw my struggling, and came over to adjust it himself. Satisfied that it now looked acceptable, he smiled once more, and possessively patted my rump as we walked towards the door.

Everything was moving along perfectly for us. Indeed, I thought uneasily, _too_ perfectly. As Erik asked the clerk when and where we might be able to board the next coach heading for the nearest town, I could not help but feel that our luck could not possibly hold out for much longer. Surely the Parisian police would have detected our escape by now. My heart ached so for poor Nadir! I was not reassured by Erik's assertion that the daroga would come out of this situation unscathed.

The feeling of impending doom continued to hover over me as we waited, sitting on a bench outside the inn, for the coach to come by. I began to wring my hands, unable to help myself. Erik, having noticed, attempted to soothe my fears, but it was in vain. In my mind, I was now seeing him being dragged off by several police officers, as I screamed and screamed, securely held by the iron grasp of two more policemen...Reality slapped me fully on the face, and I had to confront it, whether I wished to or not: I was soon to marry a murderer. I loved him beyond all thought, but the fact of what he was remained uncomfortably true. What would I say to our children one day, when they wanted to know about their father's past? Then, the inevitable realization my thoughts had led me to made me gasp involuntarily. I might even now be carrying his child!

Erik, who had walked out into the road, gazing into the distance, returned to my side immediately. I noticed that he had become quite pale. "What is it, my love?" he exclaimed, anguish in his eyes.

"It is...nothing, Erik..." I murmured, ducking my head before his anxious gaze. The guilt nearly overwhelmed me.

"Christine! You are unwell?" He gathered me into his arms as my tears began to slip uncontrolled down my cheeks.

"Erik, Erik! What are we to do? What is to become of us?"

He wound his arms tightly about me, and one of his hands began stroking my hair. "Shhh...No, my beloved, do not fret so...Shhh..."

I allowed my head to rest on his chest, unable to stop weeping. I could not understand what had so suddenly come over me. Worse, I could not tell Erik the true source of my distress, for I knew how deeply he could be wounded. I therefore had no choice but to allow him to continue to soothe and comfort me, believing that I was merely apprehensive about his possibly impending capture. Truly, I had always been aware that he was quite capable of killing. Additionally, he had a most formidable temper. Had I not seen evidence of these two things with my own eyes, in the darkness of his lair?

My sobbing at last calmed as he continued to stroke my hair, and my back as well. At length, the coach arrived, and we boarded without incident, although the coachman did give us some strange looks. I noticed that Erik had to actually restrain himself from handing me into the coach. I smiled through my tears. Soon we were on the way. To our vast relief, we were the only occupants of the coach. We settled back and began to relax.

We traveled thus, for the most part in companionable silence, for the rest of the day. Night was falling when my uneasiness returned. Erik, always mindful of my slightest change in mood, felt that it was time for us to rest. So he tapped firmly on the roof of the coach, calling out to the driver to stop.

We alighted, and walked about, stretching our stiff legs. The coachman kept a discreet distance, but I could see him doing his best to pretend that he was not giving us intermittent looks. A half hour or so later, we were back on the road. I do not remember much of the rest of the night, for I fell asleep with my head in Erik's lap.

A bump in the road brought me rudely awake. Immediately I felt his hand, stroking my forehead lovingly. His beautiful voice greeted me tenderly. "Good morning, my sweet betrothed. We have arrived at our destination. You have slept through the night!"

I groggily sat up, not sure of where we were. The motion of the coach reminded me instantly that we were traveling, although I knew not where. No matter, I told myself. Erik knew, and he was now informing me that we had reached our goal, whatever that might be.

Holding the door open for me, he took my elbow to help me down, but remained in the coach himself, so that the coachman would not see a man assisting another 'man' from a coach.

My feet touched the ground, and I put a hand to the side of the vehicle, as I was afraid I might simply fall over, so stiff was I.

"Behold!" said Erik in his best stage magician's voice. "The town of _Belle Foret_!"

I looked around, and was pleased by the sight of the simple, cozy-looking buildings my eyes encountered. I was even more pleased when they found what I had longingly been searching for: a church. Was it not true that every French town, no matter how small, had one? This one certainly did, and it was the tallest building on the horizon.

Turning to Erik, I gave him my sweetest, most loving smile. "_Mon amour, _what a beautiful little town this is!"

He laughed, having noticed the direction of my glance. I wondered whether anything ever escaped his awareness.

"As soon as we are settled in the inn, we shall acquire proper clothing and go find a priest!" he announced with a broad smile, which I heartily returned. Gone for now were my misgivings. We would soon be legally and properly married!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I neither own nor have any rights to these wonderful imaginary people...I simply love them!**

**Chapter 8: The Creature Stirs from the Depths**

_Erik_

I knew she was ecstatic about the church. I myself could hardly wait to make her officially my own. I would not want her to feel shame and guilt at our continued physical intimacy, without the blessings of a God she firmly believed in. Besides, she was well aware that I would be most proud to make her my wife. Indeed, that had been my wish from the moment I had seen her delicate beauty, and heard the melodiousness of her voice.

As soon as we were settled in the town inn, we began to make plans for the marriage ceremony. We would first have to find the proper attire, as well as everyday clothes to move about in. My face presented a most immediate problem. I had no mask with me, and I could not continue to hide my visage behind the turban.

Two days after our arrival, Christine ventured forth alone, with the money that I had provided her, as Nadir had been kind enough to send Darius to my bank while I tended to my beloved's fever in his apartment. She had decided to wear my Persian costume, as she had grown tired of pretending to be a young man. The flowing robes were more appropriate for her feminine charms. She simply put up the hood, allowing her exquisite hair to peek out from within its confines.

She was gone for most of the day, and returned in late afternoon, laden with parcels, with which she was assisted by an attendant from the inn. When she entered our room, it became apparent to me at once that something was not quite right.

I am a highly perceptive individual, as well as an incredibly sensitive one, if I do say so myself. She did not have to tell me in so many words what had transpired as she had gone about, making her purchases. I knew her quite well by this time, being exquisitely familiar with every tone of her sweet voice, every delicate gesture, every expression that danced across her face. She could not possibly hide anything from me. Yet, she was. It was only later that I understood that she did not wish any untoward consequences to arise from the event in question.

She had, of course, immediately acquired an admirer.

I should never have allowed her out without the benefit of my protective presence, but unfortunately, it had been necessary for her to venture forth alone, due to my damnable face!

Ah, she was simply much too beautiful to be out in public on her own! Why should I have been surprised that another member of my gender had fallen under her spell?

As she entered our spacious chamber, I was immediately aware that something was amiss. She was not bubbling with enthusiasm, as she rightfully should have been. When she turned to me, her little nervous gestures were quite apparent. Most suspicious of all was the fact that she could not seem to meet my eyes, and there was guilt written all over her features. She abruptly turned away from me again, as she began opening one of her parcels.

"Were you able to find everything we need, my darling?" I inquired nonchalantly, as though nothing at all were wrong. I am, after all, a patient man, when it suits me to be so.

"Oh, yes, my love! I have also found a most cordial dressmaker who will be able to make whatever garments we desire. We must, of course, provide her with accurate measurements. I explained to her that my fiance had suffered an unfortunate accident in his youth, which required the use of a mask to cover his face partially. She has promised me that she will contact a person who specializes in such..."

"Christine," I said very quietly, stepping up behind her, and picking up her luxurious tresses, after which I tenderly kissed her neck. She shivered; whether it was from pleasure or fear, I was not sure. Perhaps it was both..."What is wrong, my sweet? Why are you so nervous? Tell me, please."

She turned around then, and finally met my eyes. "Why, Erik, whatever do you mean? There is nothing wrong at all!"

I smiled, although not pleasantly. It was one of my deadly smiles, and I saw the color drain from her face. "You are hiding something from me, Christine. I know you entirely too well for you to successfully keep anything from me. What is it? You must tell me. I cannot abide any secrets between us, as well you must know!"

She took a step back, bringing one of her hands to her face, as she let out a shocked gasp. "Erik, you are frightening me! Why are you looking at me like that? There is no need for you to suspect anything! You know that I do love you! I want to be your wife! What are you accusing me of?"

"I have nothing to accuse you of as yet, since you have told me nothing!" I answered, my voice rising, despite my efforts to avoid it. "You must do so at once!"

Suddenly, a thought struck me, and the fuse of my anger was lit. "You have seen that blasted boy, have you not? Ah, that is what you would keep from me, you deceitful little..."

"Erik!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide, and abject fear in her every feature. "No! It is not Raoul! How could you say such a thing? Did I not leave him, and run back to your side, just in time to stop you from killing yourself?"

"It is not Raoul!" I scornfully mimicked her, snorting in derision. "Why should I believe you, Christine? Have you not betrayed me before?" The anger was steadily rising, and soon, too soon, would be entirely beyond my control. I must get her away from me...

She began to weep now, her shoulders heaving uncontrollably. "No, Erik, no...I would not betray you again, my love! You are the treasure of my heart! Do not, I beg of you, speak thus to me! I love you! We are to be married! For the love of God, Erik..."

I was beyond reason. Trembling with fury, I turned from her, and whispered hoarsely, "Leave me, Christine! I may not be held accountable for my actions if you remain in my presence, and you know that I cannot venture beyond this room without a mask! Leave me at once!"

She sobbed in a fit of despair. "How can you send me away, Erik? Where shall I go? I know no one in this town! Why are you doing this?"

"Leave me for a few hours, Christine...I cannot tolerate your presence at this time. You may return after that. Please!"

I shall never forget her cry of anguish as she ran out the door, in great fear. I shall never forgive myself for allowing my irrational jealousy to cause her such terrible pain...

I was violently shaking with fury by now. I needed to let it out, somehow. Turning to the table where she had deposited the parcels, I brought my fist down upon it with all the terrible strength I possessed. The table split in two, scattering the packages on the floor. When, I bellowed, would I ever be loved for myself alone? Picking up one of the two halves of the table, I flung it violently against one of the walls of the room. The roaring rage filled me with a sense of awesome power. I felt myself becoming consumed by a mad hatred for the entire human race, beginning with a certain faithless soprano...I looked about, panting, for something else to destroy. My eyes fell upon the bed, on which Christine's silver brush lay, with a few of her hairs caught in its bristles. I walked over to the bed, and picked it up, intending to fling it agaisnt the wall, as well. As my fingers closed upon it, however, her delicate scent soflty assaulted my senses. Instead of flinging it from me, I brought it up to my nose, closing my eyes in ecstasy as I deeply inhaled the faint perfume. I suddenly sank to the floor, overcome with the greatest anguish. I began to sob, deep, tearing sobs that came from the depths of my being. My God, what had I done? I had finally succeeded in winning the woman whose love meant my very life, and, in a few moments of madness, had destroyed our happiness! I sobbed and sobbed, unable to stop, until at last, my tears subsided. I rested my head on the floor, utterly spent.

After a few moments, I raised my head, taking a deep, calming breath. I lifted up a prayer to that God I had such difficulty believing in, and promised Him that I would do anything for Him, anything at all, if I could bring my beloved back and repair the damage I had inflicted upon her. I prayed with all the earnestness of a man desperately in love, willing to move heaven and earth to atone for his terrible mistake. How could I have accused my sweet Christine of any wrongdoing? Did I not have proof of her faithful devotion to me?

After taking another deep breath, I came to a firm decision. Mask or no mask, I would go out and seek her, and bring her back. I would make it up to her. I would plead with her, promising never to allow my anger to get the better of me again...

With firm resolve, I arose, and cast about for clothes. As she had been wearing my Persian costume, I knew I must find other attire, as the men's clothing she had arrived in would, of course, not fit my much larger frame. They had, in fact, belonged to Darius, who was of short stature. I ran about the room, ransacking the armoires and dresser drawers. There was nothing to be found in them! Then I thought of the parcels she had brought back. Surely there must be an article of clothing in one of them. With two bounds, I fell upon them, tearing them apart in my frenzy. My efforts were succesful, to my deep relief and gratitude. I pulled a pair of trousers from one of the packages. They seemed to be my size. From another, I pulled a white cotton shirt. Simple, everyday clothes. My eyes again filled with tears. There were no clothes for Christine, although the amount of money I had given her would surely have enabled her to buy something for herself. It was quite obvious that she had given no thought to her own needs...

I could not waste my time, I sternly told myself. I must get to her, and quickly! It had become apparent to me that she had not returned the excess money left from her shopping trip. If I knew her, she must surely have attempted to engage a coach to make her escape from the monster that I had turned into. I must hurry!

Swiftly donning the clothes and hastily working on my boots, I ran to my pouch, and removed some money from it. Then I wound the turban about my face, and fled from the room, as if the hounds of hell pursued me...


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Ha! All of you who have read thus far are probably shocked and surprised by this sudden turn of events, eh? But of course, poor Erik cannot quite believe yet that Christine is truly his! Stay tuned, folks, because it's going to get verrrryyyy intense... **

**Chapter 9: An Unwanted Rescue Ensues**

_Christine_

So this was why the feeling of impending doom had been hanging over me! Such terrible, terrible rage! Now I began to wonder how I could ever have returned to him, knowing that he was capable of such violent fury. My misgivings had indeed been justified. This man I loved so greatly was, nevertheless, a murderous monster. What would he have done, had I remained in the room with him? Would he have gone so far as to kill me, the woman he wishes to make his wife?

I would never be able to forget his face, contorted by the powerful anger coursing through his body at the moment before I hurriedly left the room. Perhaps I had truly been fleeing for my very life...

I had at last come to my senses. I could not possibly marry this man. Yet I loved him so! That simply added to the hurt and bewilderment that now engulfed me. The fact that he had doubted me so easily, so irrationally, had stabbed me to the heart. I was unable to comprehend how I could still feel love for him, while, at the same time, his sudden betrayal of that love had surely and completely killed the blissful union we had enjoyed since escaping from the Opera House together.

I fled from him, along the corridors of the inn, my heart pumping madly. Once or twice, I dared to glance behind, fearful lest he had decided to follow me. But no, he was not pursuing me. I continued to run, picking up the folds of the voluminious Persian robe I was wearing, to prevent it from tripping me up. I ran all the way down the stairs, from our fourth floor room, and so was quite winded when I had reached the first floor. I had to stop momentarily. I held myself up with one hand against the wall, as I gasped for breath. My hood had fallen back during my hasty flight, and my disheveled hair tumbled wildly about my shoulders. A sharp pain lanced my side, and I could not help groaning softly.

"Are you all right, Mademoiselle?" I heard a solicitous voice at my elbow. Looking up, I noticed it was the inn's concierge.

Nodding my head wearily, I mumbled that I was. He remained next to me, though, and insisted on escorting me to a chair by one of the windows in the sitting room on the first floor. I allowed him to do so, assuring him all the time that I was fine, but had simply had a sudden fright. He looked at me in a rather strange manner, and I suddenly realized that he must not remember me, since I had arrived at the inn dressed as a man. He did leave me alone, in spite of his suspicions, for which I was greatly relieved.

I sat on the edge of the chair, and started wringing my hands. What would I do now? Where would I go? Perhaps I should simply return to Paris. I certainly could not stay here! Yet I had no money...then I remembered that I did have some money with me, left from my purchases of the day. I had meant to give it to Erik. Yes, I would return to the city. There must be a coach going there, sometime that day. Searching the pockets of the robe, I was able to ascertain that I had the necessary amount. I would purchase a seat on the very next coach, and go straight to Mother Giry. She would help me decide what to do next.

With firm resolve, I stood, taking a deep breath. Then I walked over to the concierge's desk, and inquired about the next coach leaving for Paris. To my dismay, I was told that there would not be another coach heading in that direction until the following morning!

I turned from the concierge so he would not see the tears spilling from my eyes. I ran out the front door of the inn, and blindly up the street, sobbing as I went. Dear God, what was I to do? Blessed Virgin in heaven, have you abandoned me because I have given myself to this man? Help me!

A male voice began calling out behind me. "Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!" I did not stop, for I knew that voice. Neither did I look back. Then, as I continued to run, I heard steps running towards me. He would soon catch up with me, as I was already tired from my flight down the stairs of the inn.

Now I felt my arm caught in a strong grip, and heard the voice again, laced with concern. "Mademoiselle! What is the matter? What are you running from in such great distress?"

My God! How could I face this man? Why was he so interested in me?

I stopped, and stood stock still, my head down. I was panting heavily. He did not immediately release my arm, and this I did not like at all.

"Kindly...unhand me, sir." I said, quietly, not looking at him. He did so, albeit rather reluctantly, I perceived. I murmured my thanks, and attempted to continue on my way, at a slower pace. He then grasped my arm again, and turned me to face him, a bit too forcefully for my liking.

Gerard Dupres, who had so persistently insisted on presenting himself to me but a few hours before, now stood before me.

"Sir, I have asked you to unhand me!" I exclaimed, as I shook my arm free, and met his eyes. I glared furiously at him. He stood his ground just the same, his eyes full of concern, as well as a grudging admiration.

"Mademoiselle," he then persisted, in his most polite tone, "pray forgive me for being so forward towards your person. I could not help but notice that you had left the inn rather hastily, and in great distress as well..."

"Why, you've been following me!" I was indignant! Why could he not comprehend that I had absolutely no interest in pursuing his acquaintance?

He looked suspiciously guilty. "I must admit, Mademoiselle, that I have...and I could hardly wait for you to come forth from the inn!" He now looked a bit sheepish. "I must beg your forgiveness once again. I have wanted nothing more than to see your delightful beauty since the moment I was fortunate enough to set eyes upon you!"

I sighed in exasperation, turning from him. "I see that I did not make myself clear enough at our first inopportune encounter, Monsieur! I thank you for your compliments, but I am betrothed to another. Kindly leave me alone, if you please!" Stepping away from him, I walked on, squaring my shoulders.

He was undeterred, and stayed at my side, speaking as he walked. "Why were you fleeing in such terror, Mademoiselle? For it was indeed terror that I saw on your face! In fact, you are still shaking like a leaf! Ah, was it perhaps him you were fleeing from?"

He saw that this comment had shaken me, and so he continued, his voice now taking on a serious tone. "Has he...struck you, Mademoiselle? If so, I shall tear him limb from limb!"

The ridiculous image rose, unbidden, in my mind. This fool had no idea whom he wanted to tangle with! I had to cover my mouth at once, for I had begun to smile at the very idea of Dupres challenging my dark Angel...

I turned and faced him again. "No, Monsieur, he has not struck me. I must thank you for your interest in my welfare, but, really..."

"Do you have someone to go to, Miss...?" Here he waited for me to supply my name, which I had adamantly refused to give him the first time he had sought my attention.

My heart leaped in dismay. It was quite clear that he meant to help me to escape from Erik, should he find out that I had no relatives or friends in town. Perhaps he was heaven-sent...I looked down, thinking furiously. Should I trust this man? How could I leave Erik in such a manner? Yet, he himself had thrust me out. Furthermore, I knew not when one of these insane, jealous rages would overtake him again. Perhaps this man could get me to safety...

"I have some money, Monsieur. If you could find it in your heart to help me to get back to Paris..."

"Mademoiselle, you need not offer me any money," he smilingly replied, as he swept off his hat, bowing to me. "I shall be most happy to escort you there myself. Do you have relatives there?"

"Yes..." I replied vaguely, suddenly feeling very uneasy. Why should this perfect stranger be so willing to accompany me back to the city? No, I could not accept such a thing...

"Monsieur, if you could arrange speedy transportation thither, I assure you that I would be fine by myself. And I insist on paying you for your services. I am, after all, almost a married woman."

"Tut, tut!" he replied, smiling broadly, which gave his handsome face a very boyish look. "You need not fear that I would overstep the boundaries of gentlemanly behavior, my dear Miss..." He again looked meaningfully at me.

"Millefleur," I blurted, not knowing how I had invented such an absurd name. "Charlotte Millefleur."

He bowed very politely, taking my hand. "May I? I am most pleased to make your lovely acquaintance."

I hastily removed my hand from his before he was able to bring it to his lips to kiss it. He smiled at this, but did not comment upon it.

"Very well, Miss Millefleur. Let us go. My driver is not far off, as I have instructed him to wait for me."

"Your driver?" I stared at him in disbelief. "You have your own coach, Monsieur?"

"Indeed, Mademoiselle. I am the Comte Gerard Emile Dupres de Tocqueville. When traveling, I much prefer to shorten it to the simpler Gerard Dupres. You see, I am one of those aristocratic rebels you may have heard about. I am not fond of flaunting my position, preferring instead to be seen as a common man, which, in fact, we all are."

I stared at him, open-mouthed. The first thought that came to me was that he must know Raoul! Had this man been sent by him? But no, if such were the case, he would not have revealed himself as a member of the aristocracy so readily...

"Shall we, Mademoiselle?" he now inquired, offering me his arm. I shook my head, looking away from him. He merely shrugged, saying, "As you wish, Miss Millefleur. Come, I shall take you to my coach."

We walked in the direction of the waiting coach, he, quite well pleased with himself, and I, with a very heavy heart.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: ****I would like to thank all those who have reviewed thus far! Without your encouragement and support, I would still have been able to write, but would not have enjoyed it half as much! **

**Although it took me a while to get back to this story, I knew that I would eventually return to it. After all, I could not leave my beloved characters stranded, could I? It's just that my muses, who are rather capricious, decided to have me concentrate on another story for quite some time...**

**Chapter 10: A Fruitless Search**

_Christine_

The ride to Paris seemed much too long to me. I spent the time endlessly debating with myself, while trying to be polite to Dupres, who had insisted on accompanying me in one of the plush seats in the back of the coach. At least, he had agreed to sit across from me, and not right next to me, as he had originally wanted.

I could not understand his insistent, annoying interest in me. Surely a man of his position would be able to find any number of beautiful women who would be more than happy to return his attentions! I was growing quite tired of being told how beautiful I was. True, that comment was frequently accompanied by similar compliments on the quality of my singing, but it was still irritating. Had I not been blessed with an attractive face, would those who were so given to fawning on me have praised my singing? I think not! I have begun to believe that it is most unfair that men are not valued as highly as women for the beauty of their features! Indeed, an ugly man may comfortably find his place in the world solely on the basis of his achievements. Ah, but there were exceptions even to this little rule! For there was a sublime genius in the world, who could not win acceptance based on his considerable talents, due to the terrible disfigurement he had been unfortunate enough to be born with...

So I mused as I sat in the luxurious vehicle, attempting to remain as quiet as possible, but meeting with Monsieur Dupres's intruding stream of words at every turn. I would from time to time look out the window, my heart in my throat, as I fought back tears. I was wondering what Erik had done, upon discovering my disappearance...Several times during the ride I felt myself on the verge of asking Dupres to turn the coach around, and take me back to the inn. Each time, I squelched the impulse, as I once more saw Erik's face, flushed with an insane rage, before my eyes...At length, my emotions had the best of me, and tears began rolling silently down my face.

Dupres instantly became concerned. I knew he would try once again to extract some information about my personal history, as he had so far been unsuccesful in doing.

"Mademoiselle," he began cautiously. "I would hope that you would allow me to allay your distress. Is there anything I can do to alleviate it?"

I shook my head as I turned away from him, my eyes on the moving landscape outside the window. I did not trust myself to speak. Presently I felt something being pressed into my hands, and I realized that it was a handkerchief. Its delicate perfume drifted up to me. Looking down, I noticed that it had lace edges, and delicately embroidered initials, in pink and green thread. I glanced at Dupres rather suspiciously.

Smiling a little nervously, he said, "It...ah...belongs to...my sister, Mademoiselle."

So I had been right about him. Now I knew why I had not liked him, or his persistence in seeking my company. The man was a disgusting rake! How very typical of his class! Raoul, I knew, was a very highly-principled member of that same class. However, that could not be said for all its representatives...One such now sat before me. I must be on my guard. What if he had no intention of taking me to my chosen destination, after all, but meant to spirit me away to his chateau, where he could have his way with me? His servants would do nothing to help me, no doubt being accustomed to his endless parade of paramours...

I stiffened visibly. "Thank you for your kindness, Monsieur, but I really don't need..."

He interrupted me. "Mademoiselle, I know quite well what you imagine me to be. I assure you that I have no sinister designs upon your person, but am merely deeply grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a beautiful..."

"Please don't say it, Monsieur!" I hastily handed the handkerchief back to him. "I am sure that you have had ample opportunity to have been in the company of women far more beautiful than I! And, now, if you would be so kind, I wish to be left alone with my thoughts for some time."

He was stung by these remarks, but tried to hide his brief flare of anger. "Very well, Mademoiselle. It shall be as you wish," he said, as coldly as he could.

I fervently hoped that silence would reign for the duration of the ride...

_Erik_

I ran down the stairs like a madman, uncaring that my face was only covered by the turban, which might slip off at any moment. There were four floors, and I even resorted to sliding down the banister, something I knew mischievous boys often did. I, however, having been deprived of a normal childhood, had never enjoyed such innocent pleasures. Now it was strictly a matter of urgency, so I did not derive any belated joy from the act.

Once on the first floor, I looked about wildly, but saw no sign of her. Of course, my utter emotional collapse upstairs had ensured that there would be a considerable span of time between our respective flights. She had probably had ample time to flee from the town.

A cold fear seized my heart. _I was not going to find her. Indeed, she did not wish me to find her. _Trembling, I forced myself to approach the concierge's desk. The man there was going through some papers, but looked up expectantly as I neared the desk. I saw him frown involuntarily as he took in my appearance. I knew that the turban was still in place, but my eyes were not hidden, and so part of my disfigurement was visible. Still, the man ignored this, to his credit. He was probably a very decent, kind, human being. I dared hope, before my ravaged soul exclaimed within me, _"Do not let him fool you by his appearance of kindness! It has cost you dearly in the past!"_

"Yes, Monsieur?" he now inquired, attempting to make both his voice and facial expression completely neutral.

"Have you...have you..." I stammered, my heart pounding like a fiend, both from anxiety and the exertion of flying down four flights of stairs. "Have you seen a young lady come down very recently, very beautiful, dressed in Arabic robes?" My golden gaze bore into him.

He tipped his head and considered me, his expression now taking on a suspicious air. "Why, yes, Monsieur. Not more than fifteen minutes ago. She seemed quite distressed. I had her sit by one of the windows over there, but she did not stay seated long. She finally ran outside, and promptly disappeared." He stroked his mustache and goatee, regarding me thoughtfully.

"Ahhhhhh..." I sighed, in utter defeat. "She is gone, then..."

"Pardon me, Monsieur," he now continued, his eyes still upon me. "Did you not arrive a mere two days ago, accompanied by a very young man?"

I nodded sheepishly. "It was she, Monsieur," I found myself admitting. "We had an urgent need to escape...the city. You see, she was being pursued..." I finished, lamely.

The concierge's eyebrows shot up. "By whom, Monsieur, if you will pardon my asking?"

I was caught, but I was accustomed, thanks to my accursed past, to lie smoothly.

"By someone who was opposed to our marriage -- a rival suitor!"

"Ah, so the young lady in question is your wife, I take it!" His face brightened. Doubtless the fool was proud of himself for having arrived at such a brilliant deduction, which I alone knew to be incorrect.

"Precisely, Monsieur." I assented, satisfied that the man would now see no impropriety in my actions. "I must go outside and see if she may still be about. I fear some foul play!"

With this, I dashed outside, although my heart told me that she was indeed gone...

I ran up and down the little, unpaved street in front of the inn, but was unsuccesful in my search. As I went, I held the turban up with one hand, fearful that it might drop, and the horror would be revealed. Several denizens of the town were strolling about, and I wanted to inquire as to whether they had seen a young lady fleeing their way, but I did not dare...

At last, I had to admit that she had indeed given me the slip. I could not blame her for her flight. She had been terrified at the sight of her beloved's face, contorted with rage. Perhaps she had even thought that I would harm her physically...Ah, but she did not yet know me, my little diva...I would _never _strike her. Yes, I had murdered, but none of my victims had been women. I refused to hurt any member of the fair sex. At least, not physically. My words, and the frightening power of my voice, however, were an entirely different matter...

Dejectedly, I turned back to the inn. I had not given up on finding her, however. I knew that she must have decided to return to Paris. Where else could she go? I also knew that she would go directly to Madame Giry's apartment. The woman had partially raised her, after all. And little Meg had been like a sister to her. Yes, that was her most likely destination.

As I entered the inn once again, I was informed by the concierge that the next coach back to Paris would not come by until the early morning hours. My shoulders slumped in abject despair. Turning away, I was able to catch the strange look the concierge was giving me. He seemed to feel suspicious again...

I knew that I would have to leave the inn as expeditiously as possible.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Well, faithful readers, you may now be asking yourselves what this fool of a soprano has gotten herself into, eh? Will Erik be able to rescue her from the clutches of this ridiculous nobleman, who appears to be more of a fop than even the Vicomte de Chagny himself? We shall see, won't we?**

**Chapter 11: An Unwanted Proposal**

_Christine_

I straightened up suddenly, having dozed off briefly, and glanced outside the coach window to my right. It was completely dark outside, and panic seized me, as I choked back a sob. My God, what had I done? I had left the man I adored, and gotten into a coach with a _complete stranger_! What insanity had seized me? Where was Erik now? Oh, that I would learn to control my childish impulses! He might even now be putting a pistol to his temple once more! I tried to yank open the door of the coach, as I started to sob uncontrollably. Of course, _he, _with a cry, restrained me at once.

"Mademoiselle! What are you doing?"

"Let go of me, you ruffian! Let go of me!" I had quickly become hysterical.

"You will hurt yourself if you attempt to leave the coach now, Mademoiselle! We have still not arrived!"

His hands were on mine, his face, inches away. I had only to turn my eyes in order to meet his. I did so, glaring at him.

"You...are touching me! How dare you! Take your hands off me!"

He did not do as I demanded, giving me stare for stare.

"I shall remove them only when I am sure that you will not attempt to leave the coach again," he said, quietly.

I took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and closed my eyes.

"Just so...very good," he said,approvingly. "Now, Mademoiselle, I shall release you, and you shall not engage in any more hysterical actions. Agreed?"

I nodded my head vigorously, saying nothing.

"Very well, then." He released my hands, but remained near enough to grasp them again, should it become necessary.

I swallowed, and tried to compose myself. There had to be a way out of my present predicament. I had made a terrible mistake! I prayed that I would be able to correct it, and return to Erik. _If he still wants me, that is..._I thought in despair. I had sworn to stay with him, in spite of his angry outbursts! "Inanities", I had called them! I bowed my head as guilt squeezed my heart, and shame took possession of my mind...

"Are you all right, Mademoiselle?" The unwelcome voice came to my ears again...Oh, _why _had I asked this man to take me back to Paris, away from my beloved?

I now began to tremble. "Where...Where...are we?" For some reason, I dreaded hearing his answer.

"Ah, you are about to be pleasantly surprised, Mademoiselle..." he answered, enigmatically.

I was instantly alarmed. "Are we not going into Paris? That _is_ where I asked you to take me, Monsieur!"

"Well," the fiend chuckled, "it is true that you shall not be too far from Paris..."

"You...you damnable rogue! Where are you taking me? And you call yourself a gentleman?"

He leaned back in his seat, smiling broadly, as if there were nothing at all wrong with the present scenario.

"There is nothing to be alarmed about, Mademoiselle Millefleur, if that is, in fact, your real name. I am taking you to a perfectly safe place. I could do no less, for the woman I intend to court, and eventually marry!" He spread his arms out on the back of the seat as he said this. He seemed to be gloating, too! Holy Mother of God!

My worst fears had been confirmed! He was a madman, albeit one with rather quaint, romantic ideas...

"Am I to be your prisoner now, sir, on hand whenever you wish to satisfy the hunger of your flesh?" I asked, quietly, meeting his eyes.

He continued to smile, even as I felt an unusual need arise in me -- the need to put my hands around his neck, and squeeze the life out of him... I could now understand Erik's murderous urges. God in heaven, that I should feel such things!

"You should not consider it such, gentle flower! After all, you shall have all of your needs amply met, all of your whims, whatever they might be --although within reason, of course --amply satisfied!"

I winced at the ridiculous endearment. I could not believe this man's arrogance! How dare he presume to take over my life in such a manner! Now he seemed to be proposing, not marriage, as he had just stated, but an arrangement in which I would be set up, comfortably and discreetly, at his chateau!

I ventured to question him on this. "So I am now to become your mistress, Monsieur? Have I no say at all in the matter?"

He suddenly bent over with a loud guffaw. I stared at him, horrified. He continued to laugh, bent over in that manner, for a full two minutes. It seemed an eternity...I could do nothing but stare incomprehensibly at him.

At length, he straightened, and, still chuckling, faced me. His handsome face was red from the force of his laughing.

"Mademoiselle...You really _do_ think me a heartless rake, I see! Well, you are not mistaken in believing me to be a _Don Juan! _But that is all in the past now! No, I have no intention of making you my mistress! Did I not say that I plan to court you, and eventually marry you?"

I started at the mention of the name _Don Juan. _Ah, Erik...

"But...how can you know, having just met me, that I am destined to be your wife? Do you not recall that I am already betrothed?"

"Tut, my dear! I know that you are to be mine! I cannot explain how, but I know! As to your betrothal, were you not desperately fleeing from your fiance? You were most eager to escape his clutches, as I recall! I do not think that is a very auspicious beginning, little cupcake!"

I bristled at his use of these endearments he had no right to direct at me. "Would you kindly refrain from calling me by such names, Monsieur? After all, we are not officially a couple, nor will we ever be, if I have anything to say about it!"

He smiled his sickeningly syrupy smile. "Well, we shall see about that, will we not, my little dove? I intend to court you properly, so that you will soon be swooning at my feet! I shall be the most attentive of suitors, never fear!"

I was appalled, but somewhat amused, as well. I began to wonder if he might not be entirely harmless, after all, even if he _was _slightly daft...I did my best to keep a straight face, as it wouldn't do for him to think that I found his antics in the least entertaining!

"Well, Monsieur, you have still not answered my question of several minutes ago." I crossed my arms, regarding him evenly.

"Which is, Mademoiselle?" He lazily inquired with a dazzling smile, as he began to toy with the watch at his waist.

"Just _where _are you taking me? I have every right to know! Now, will you answer me, or not?"

"Ah, but she has a bit of a temper, my shy little dove! Very well, my darling, I shall satisfy your curiosity. We are on our way to the chateau of the Duchess Dupres deTocqueville!"

I never expected such an answer, needless to say! "Who...who...the devil is that?" I managed to choke out, not sure whether to start laughing or wailing in despair.

"Now, my sweet, you must really endeavor to control your language, if you are to become the Comtesse Dupres de Tocqueville! Have you never heard of the Duchess? Tsk! She is my mother, of course!"


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: My muses have apparently decided that poor Christine is to remain in the company of this rather unusual aristocrat for some time...but never fear! Erik is on his way to pull her out of his clutches! Ah, but will he succeed? It remains to be seen...**

**I would like to know how you readers like this story. It seems to be the most popular of all my stories, but I still see far more hits than reviews...If you are enjoying the events depicted here, please do drop me a line and give me some feedback, will you? Thanks! **

**Chapter 12: "The Cinderella Ploy"**

_Erik_

The cool night air whistled gently through my raven hair. The spirited black stallion I had chosen to steal bore me inexorably toward what I hoped would be an emotional reunion with my beloved.

It had been quite easy for me to acquire him. I had always had an incredible rapport with animals. In fact, I had even preferred their company, as they accepted me without question. They never grimaced in distate when receiving food from my hand, nor did they bristle aggressively when I caressed their rough fur.

As I rode along, my heart pounding almost in time with the horse's hooves, my mind raced along, as well. I was fairly certain that she would have headed back to Paris, so it was on that road that I had hastily set out, leaving all our belongings behind in the room at the inn. I refused to consider the possibility that she might have chosen to go elsewhere. Nevertheless, I felt an inexplicable dread. Something was telling me that she was not going to that destination...Shaking my head with great determination, I kept my eyes on the road, aided by the waning moonlight I hoped would not vanish completely, urging my horse on to greater speed. The valiant steed followed the commands I gave him through the pressure of my legs upon his steaming flanks, the gentle tightening of the reins, and the soft murmurs that reached his ears, praising his efforts. Animals, even more than people, readily respond to gentleness and praise.

The miles passed swiftly, and I began to calm down slightly. I reasoned that, if she had somehow been able to find a coach, I should be able to catch up with her. Although the concierge had told me that no coach heading to Paris would be coming by until morning, I knew that she had somehow found a way to leave the town. I had briefly entertained the thought that she might have found some place to hide from me, until she could take the coach in the morning. However, I had quickly discarded it. My instincts had never failed me yet, and they were telling me, quite firmly, that she was no longer in the town.

_Christine_

I glared at the ridiculous specimen of maleness before me. Handsome and rich he might be, but he was obviously a dangerous fool, one that could not easily be crossed...

I now smiled at him, attempting to allay any suspicions he might be having about me.

"You say she's your mother, Monsieur? So I am to stay at her chateau?"

He nodded, immensely pleased with what he considered a brilliant idea.

"It would be most appropriate for you to begin to get acquainted with your future mother-in-law, my sweet little dumpling! Do you not agree?" He smiled what he probably considered his most dazzling smile, but its effect was totally lost on me. There was only one man whose smile could instantly make my heart burn with intense love...

"Oh, most definitely! If you intend to marry a woman, you should present her to your mother as soon as possible! Never mind the fact that the woman herself does not wish to enter into a relationship with you!" I laughed sarcastically.

He smiled again, although with an obvious undercurrent of anger. He simply ignored my comments.

"I do believe, Mademoiselle, that we must stop for a short rest. The horses must be tired, and you yourself would welcome the chance to stretch your legs, I am quite sure."

He then rapped on the roof of the coach with his walking stick, glancing pointedly at me.

"You shall make no attempt to escape, Mademoiselle. I have a trusted coachman and his assistant with me. Additionally, there is no town near us for miles all around. You would become hopelessly lost!"

I nodded, then looked down at my hands. I knew that my chances of flight were slim indeed. _Oh, Erik, what a supreme fool I've been! How could you ever forgive me?_

The coach came to a gentle, rolling halt. Dupres opened the door on his side, alighting with the agile grace of a born sportsman. Turning, he then reached into the coach, in order to hand me down.

"Thank you, Monsieur, but I am quite capable of getting down without your assistance!" As I spoke, I grasped the sides of the door, and carefully stepped down.

He smiled tightly, but remained silent, for which I was most grateful.

_Erik_

Thoughts continued to whirl through my mind as the stallion swept by moonlit trees and sleeping, untilled fields. I felt that I was getting closer to my beloved. How I longed to see her! I wished to allay her fears. I wished to take her in my arms, and gently soothe her hurt emotions with my tender kisses, begging for her forgiveness. _Ah, my sweet, angelic diva! Will you eternally fear me? Am I to be nothing to you but a terrifying monster?_ Angry tears stung my eyes as these thoughts tormented my mind.

The moon abruptly disappeared behind some clouds, and I was forced to slow the horse down. I would not risk injuring either one of us, not when I felt we were so close...

The stallion slowed down to a canter, then a trot. His mighty flanks heaved with his labored breathing, and I realized, with a pang of guilt, that I had been pushing him too hard. I therefore slowed him to a walk, easing up on the reins. The stallion snorted, tossing his head, and we went on thus for what I calculated to be two more miles. I was not pleased at this delay, as I knew Christine had a head start of several hours. On the other hand, it would not do for my mount to be exhausted before we had any chance of reaching my fleeing betrothed...

_Christine_

I walked a few steps from the coach, closely attended by the watchful Dupres. I turned away from him, crossing my arms in front of me, and stared up at the moon, thinking of Erik...Anxiety once more rose in my heart. What was he doing at this moment? The thought that he might be making another attempt on his own life was haunting me...It would disappear from my mind for a while, only to return, stronger than before. I fought to control myself, as I did not want to give in to tears again in front of this man.

"We have a long ride ahead of us still, Mademoiselle. However, we may rest here for a few minutes. Then we shall be on our way again."

I felt a mixture of dread and anger at these words. Would Erik, I began to wonder, have decided to come looking for me? A burst of hope blossomed within me, as well as a sudden inspiration.

I turned back to Dupres. "If you please, Monsieur, I would like...a little privacy at the moment." I hesitated, knowing that I had to make this believable. So I ducked my head, pretending embarrassment.

"Ah, yes, I understand, my dear," he answered, to my vast relief. "I shall not be far, should you...ah...require any assistance..."

"I will be quite all right, Monsieur," I replied, as I ran off to the nearest bush, as if I were in a hurry to relieve myself. Once hidden behind it, I felt my clothes, trying to find something that would be a sign to Erik...I had nothing, unfortunately. I would have to rely on a little accident that had taken place in a fairy tale...I slipped off one of my shoes, hiding it in the voluminous sleeve of the Persian robe I was wearing.

I slowly walked back to the coach, intently watching Dupres, whose back was toward me. He was talking with the coachman, and seemed to be temporarily off his guard. Noiselessly I approached the coach, holding my right hand behind me, as I gently allowed the shoe to slip down to the ground...

_Erik_

At last, having rested the stallion to my satisfaction, I pressed on, now aided by stronger moonlight. On and on we went, this magnificent horse and I, throughout the night...

The first rays of the softly rising sun were bathing the landscape in golden hues when I again decided to allow my equine companion a well-deserved rest. We slowed down once more, both of us gratefully breathing in the crisp morning air.

The road was softly shaded by beautiful trees whose verdant splendor nearly made me forget the urgency of my errand. I, who was assuredly a creature of the night, now wanted to linger in this French version of Paradise...I wanted to smell the colorful blooms all around me, perhaps plucking a few to adorn the temples of my adored Christine...It was to her I owed this new appreciation of daylight's treasures. She was a creature of the light, of delicately-scented flowers, of flowing streams and open fields...I, on the other hand, was born to darkness, and the despair of a desperately unwanted solitude...

I brought the stallion to a gentle stop, and dismounted. Speaking softly to him, I caressed his elegantly-shaped head, and his ears came forward as he nuzzled my shoulder. Then I pulled the reins over his head, and led him along. He was covered in sweat, which was not a good sign. He needed a good walk to cool him down, if dire consequences were to be averted.

We walked through intermittent patches of sun and shadow, alone on the road. If it weren't for the fact that I was in pursuit of the one woman my heart longed for, I might have thought that I was on a well-deserved vacation trip in the country. It was an incredibly gorgeous day, one I wished I could have shared with Christine...

So we walked, and I did not expect to encounter anything unusual, certainly not a slim Persian slipper, embroidered in bright colors, lying in the middle of the road, right in my path...

My heart jumped alarmingly as my eyes fell upon the slipper. I came up to it, wondering what sweet fate had given me the luck to encounter it. Had I not rested my horse when I had, I would never have seen it. Indeed, I would have speeded right past it!

I knelt down to pick up the slipper, staring intently at it for a moment as I turned it over. The sole was encrusted with fairly fresh dirt, which meant that she had alighted from the coach she was probably traveling on. They, too, had taken a rest, and not too long before I had made my fortunate find!

With renewed hope in my heart, I hastily mounted my stallion, tucking the slipper into a small pouch on the saddle. Flicking the reins, I resumed my swift pursuit.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Of course I own nothing except my own imaginary musings about one tortured, masked musical genius...**

**Chapter 13: Desperate Measures...**

_Christine_

The beautiful afternoon was coming to a slow, languorous end as my hopes began to plummet once more. I wondered, sadly, whether my little ploy had worked. It now occurred to me that Erik might have entirely missed my slipper, lying there in the road. After all, it was only a small, inconsequential slipper...

I had no way of knowing whether he had decided to wait for the morning coach, instead of setting off in pursuit immediately. However, my heart told me that his great love for me would have made it impossible for him to wait until then. He must have, I reasoned, found a speedy means to enable him to come after me. My hopes soared once more.

My thoughts were suddenly and most ungraciously interrupted by the snickering voice of the ridiculous Dupres.

"Well, my sweet, we have arrived! Look out of your window, if you please. All that you see is the property of the Dupres family. I trust you will be suitably impressed. Your future spouse, my dear, will certainly keep you in style!"

I did not move to do as he asked. His remarks onlly served to increase my disgust for the man. Did he think to buy my love with his riches? Indeed, I was not entirely sure that he really meant to make me his bride. I was wary of his true motives. Everything pointed to his intending to set me up as his mistress. There probably was no mother at his chateau, I thought scornfully. I turned my head away, my stomach churning with fearful apprehension.

"Come, come, Mademoiselle!" the insufferable buffoon continued. "Surely you would be most anxious to survey all that you will have as your own when we marry! Most women would envy your position, do you not agree?"

I glanced up at his stupidly smug face.

"No, I do _not_ agree, Monsieur," I said quietly, vehemently. "Only an unscrupulous woman would envy me now! You seem to hold a very low opinion of our gender. Dare I hope that your unwanted attentions have been spurned before?" I laughed mockingly as I said this.

He smiled, and leaned back expansively in his seat. "My dear, sweet thing," he drawled, "it is quite impossible for you to irritate me, you know. I am endlessly delighted by you. So you may cease to attempt to bait me."

I glared at him, but his smile did not waver.

"Indeed," he continued, "I do not believe you could ever truly infuriate me. And if you did, you may rest assured that I would immediately leave your presence until I had calmed down sufficiently. So you see, you cannot cast me in the rather melodramatic role of abusive kidnapper."

"Very well, then," I rejoined, "if such is the case, then why do you not do the decent thing, and take me to Paris, as I requested?"

"Tsk, my dear!" His smile broadened. "Have I not already made it plain to you that I fully intend to woo you properly? I am going to make you fall madly, hopelessly, in love with me!"

"But why? Why do you want me, when there are any number of women out there who would gladly fall at your feet?"

"Because, my sweet, dear little Christine Daae, I have been wanting _you_ for a very long time. Yes, a very _long_ time indeed..."

To say that my heart stopped, and I was frozen in shock, would be an incredible understatement. I looked at him, and he laughed at my dismayed expression.

"How long have you known who I really am?" I managed to ask him, my throat tight.

"Well, not right away, of course. You were nearly unrecognizable in those clothes. It was when you first spoke to me. Your voice is unmistakable...I have seen you once or twice, on the stage of the Populaire. Your singing is nothing short of divine! Sad, isn't it, how the building has been damaged?"

"Yes, it is..." I whispered, feeling a stab of guilt. It was my betrothed, after all, who had unwittingly set the Opera House on fire.

At this point, the coachman rapped on the top of the coach. I felt our conveyance slow down, and then stop.

"Ah, here we are at last!" He laughed heartily, and bounded out of his seat, throwing open the coach door, and holding out his hand to me.

"Do not be coy, Miss Daae! Kindly take my hand. I do not wish you to take a spill."

Sighing, I reluctantly permitted him to assist me down from the coach. As I straightened, looking up, I noticed someone standing behind him, in the threshold of the massive chateau doors.

She was a formidable-looking woman, rather tall, with a haughty bearing, silver-hued strands pulled into a severe chignon. Her lavish, lilac-colored gown was in the height of fashion. This immediately made me feel self-conscious, dressed as I was in what to her must have seemed exceedingly strange attire. Her eyes gazed sternly upon my person, and her arms were crossed in front of her. She said nothing, apparently seeking to intimidate me with her glowering face.

Dupres followed the direction of my stare, and laughed uneasily when his eyes met the woman's.

"Madame, I trust that you have been well in my absence."

She shifted her eyes to look at him, but said nothing. Then she brought her eyes back to me, and continued to glare at me. Needless to say, this made me extremely uncomfortable, but I would not look down or away. I refused to be intimidated.

Dupres took a deep breath, and went on. "Maman, this is..." He was not allowed to proceed, however.

"I know _very well_ who she is, Gerard. I would like to know why you would _dare_ to bring such a person to _my_ house! If you wish to initiate a liaison with her, why do you not set her up discreetly at your own chateau?"

I felt as if she had slapped me. Here was concrete proof that the members of the aristocracy were arrogant, unfeeling... She had already categorized me as a woman of questionable morals.

"Maman!" He chided her, as he attempted to put one arm around my waist. I pushed him away, and he did not pursue the matter.

"Maman," he said, in a pleading, conciliatory tone, "this woman is to be my bride! I will ask you not to speak of her in such a manner!"

"You will _ask_ me nothing, Gerard! I will not receive her under my roof! How dare you insult your father's memory by bringing such a woman here so openly?"

"My father, you say?" He laughed harshly. "Are you not aware that my dearly departed father sired a number of half-brothers of mine upon his several mistresses?"

"Gerard! How _dare_ you! You will leave _at once_, do you hear me? And you will take your...your _doxy_ with you!" She whirled around as she said this, entering the foyer in a huff. A servant immediately shut the huge doors behind her.

Dupres sighed, and turned to me. "I was afraid of this. Far be it from me to change the ways of the aristocracy in one day...Come, let us leave. This is her home, after all. I cannot very well force my entry, even though I am her son..."

I was instantly alarmed. "Where...where shall we go, then?"

He smiled rather unsteadily, and dared to caress my cheek with one hand. I flinched away at once.

"Why, to _my_ chateau, of course, my little dove! Do you see any other option?"

"Yes, I do!" I screamed, furious. "You can take me to Paris, as I thought you were! That is, if you were truly a gentleman"

He smiled slowly. "Why do you insist on that, my sweet little diva? I wish to keep you all to myself, after all."

"Oh, you are insufferable!" I screamed, beyond myself. And then...I gathered all my courage, and dared to do something I never thought I would do. No respectable lady would do what I did then. It was completely beneath me, but I had heard from servants at the Populaire that it was extremely effective.

I kicked him as hard as I could, in the groin.

To my perverse satisfaction, he immediately doubled over in pain. I did feel a pang of guilt, however. He had so far done nothing to harm me. However, I was desperate.

As he groveled on the ground, I swiftly turned, and, hitching up the Persian attire with one hand, grasped the handlebar on the side of the coach, and sprang up. Where I got the courage to do such a thing, I will never know. I scrambled up onto the coachman's seat, which, thankfully, was empty at the moment. I had not known that, naturally. I simply did everything instinctively, desperately. The coachman was standing by the horses' heads, and was greatly startled by my actions. Before he could recuperate from his surprise, I swiftly grabbed the reins, and screamed at the horses. Their heads went up, jerking away from the coachman, and they immediately sprang into a trot. I spurred them on, directing them toward the gates of the property.

Behind me, Dupres howled in outraged pain. "Stop her, you fool!" He screamed at the coachman.

The horses were now at full gallop. We would soon be approaching the gates. Then I realized that these would have been closed after we had gone through. How could I have been so stupid?

My heart thundered in my chest as the horses sped toward the gates. As we neared them, I saw that they were indeed shut. What if I could not control the horses, and we ran headlongl into the gates?

Desperate circumstances called for desperate measures. I was, at the very least, pleased not to be wearing a corset, as that would have hampered my movements.

Just before we reached the gates, I pulled on the reins, as hard as I could, forcing the horses to swerve to the right. And then, incredibly enough even to myself, I jumped from the coach, grasping for the iron bars. Both hands closed around one of the bars, and I clung to it, panting, my breath nearly knocked out of me. I felt a pain in my left thigh, and knew that I had probably seriously bruised it. Then I hauled myself up. It was my intention to climb over, to the other side...

My resolve suddenly faltered, as I turned my head to look down. How would I be able to get to the ground? It was a long drop, after all. I wondered if I would be able to climb down, or if I should simply let myself drop. Sudden fear paralyzed me, and I could not move. I clung to the bars fiercely, knowing it would not be long before I tired of that. I would fall a good six feet or more...


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Nothing, nothing, not ONE iota...there, I feel so much...WORSE! Anyhow, on with the story!**

**Chapter 14: The Lover's Approach **

_Christine_

I held on to the bars for as long as I could...I exerted all my strength, which, naturally, could never compare with a man's. Shutting my eyes tightly, I moaned as I felt my increasingly sweaty hands slowly lose their grip on the cold iron...

I fell.

I knew I was falling inside the gates, onto Dupres property... Images flashed rapidly in front of my closed eyes, images of Erik's face...I knew it would be a very bad fall. I would probably break some bones, perhaps sustain a concussion...

Then, as I have read in so many adventure tales, everything turned black all around me...

"Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!"

Someone seemed to be screaming at me. The voice was coming from so far away...Then I felt a gentle slap agaisnt my right cheek. Then there was another...Who could possibly be attempting to wake me? I was feeling _so_ very comfortable, lying on something soft and yielding...

"Miss Millefleur! Answer me!"

At last, I managed to open my eyes. They remained out of focus, however, and I frowned. There was something white in front of me, and then I saw a hand lift, in order to slap my cheek again. Instinctively, I brought my own hand up, quick as lightning, and stopped it, grasping it by the wrist.

"Ah, at last! Miss Millefleur, can you hear me?"

My eyes swiftly moved to find the owner of the sharp, male voice. I frowned again, and was finally able to focus. He was a stranger. He was sitting next to me, on what was apparently a bed, and holding something white in one hand. I could now see that it was a piece cloth, which he had apparently been using to wipe the sweat from my brow. It was his other hand that had been slapping my cheek. I attempted to stir, and couldn't. I stared at the man, who continued to look at me intently, his face twisted into an anxious expression. He was middle-aged, sporting a beard and mustache. A pair of spectacles was perched on the tip of his nose.

"Can you hear me, Mademoiselle?" he repeated, when he saw that I still did not answer.

"Yes..." I finally mumbled.

"Do not attempt to move. You have had a fall, which could have been much worse, save for Monsieur Gaspard here."

I moved my eyes over to the bearded man's left, and beheld the coachman, whose face was as pale as the bleached stones on a sun-drenched beach. Ah, I mused briefly, memories of the Swedish coastline of my childhood...Then I turned my attention back to the stranger.

"Who...Where...?" I got no further, as I was too dazed to speak.

"Please do not exert yourself, Miss," the unknown man continued. I supposed him to be a physician. This assumption later proved to be correct. "You are in one of the guest rooms at the Baroness's chateau, and you will be well taken care of. Thankfully, you seem to have no broken bones."

"So why...?" I managed to squeak.

"You lost consciousness, Miss Millefleur." The man was certainly able to anticipate my thoughts!

I was totally mortified. Would I never stop fainting at crucial moments of my life?

"You have a slight concussion, I believe, from my cursory examination of your person," he continued. "You should be fine by tomorrow, but should remain abed for a day or so."

I frowned again, and looked at the coachman, then back at the doctor. He patted my arm reassuringly.

"You need not fear for Monsieur Gaspard," he said gently, smiling. "He is quite all right. If not for him, you would most certainly have broken a few ribs, perhaps even a leg." He sighed. "Whatever possessed you to do such a thing, I'm sure I do not know!"

I looked up at him in alarm. I had suddenly realized that he was calling me by the false name I had originally given Dupres! I did my best to try to sit up.

"Tut, tut!" said the doctor. "Did I not tell you that you were to remain still? Indeed, you are most stubborn, Mademoiselle!"

"But..." I stammered, "my name is not...I am not this person..."

"Yes, I understand," he chided gently. "You are in shock, and so are completely disoriented. Now you really must obey my instructions, and simply try to rest. Do not worry about anything. Monsieur Dupres will see to your welfare, I am quite sure. Of course, you will have some bruises, but nothing truly serious. Monsieur Gaspard has some few bruises as well. After all, he cushioned your fall! He, too, will be getting some rest. Now, if you please, Mademoiselle, you must drink this. It will enable you to relax, but you should not sleep as yet. Monsieur Dupres will be at your side, making sure that you do not fall asleep. It would be most dangerous for you to do so at this point."

I wanted to scream at this, but restrained myself. Besides, I did not have the energy. So I simply looked up at the doctor with a wan smile. Carefully placing one hand underneath my neck, he raised my head slighty, placing a glass to my lips. I obediently drank the potion, which had a slightly bitter taste.

"Thank you, doctor," I murmured as he laid my head back on the pillow.

"You are most welcome," he replied, smiling, as he rose.

His position on the bed was taken by a most unwelcome visitor. I quickly turned my eyes away.

The bed sagged slightly as he sat down, and he sighed, softly.

"How are you feeling, Mademoiselle?" he inquired, so softly that I dared to flick my gaze to his face.

I nodded silently, surprised to see no sign of anger on his countenance. In fact, his expression betrayed concern...I could not help feeling alarmed by this. Was he truly willing to overlook the fact that I had kicked him where I remembered kicking him? More disturbing, why had he given the doctor my false name? Why was he hiding my identity?

_Erik_

I hastily dismounted, having noticed that the coach tracks had grown somewhat faint in the hard-packed earth. Kneeling beside them, I ran a hand over them, which I then brought up to my nose. Smiling with a satisfied expression, I came to the conclusion that the tracks were quite fresh, and that I would soon find the whereabouts of the coach.

I approached the stallion once more, spoke softly to him, and took up the reins. With one smooth movement, I was on his back once more, and gently spurred him on.

We had not gone very far, when I noticed that, although the road went on in a straight line, there seemed to be new track marks to the side of it. Frowning, I dismounted yet again, and examined them. Yes, I mused as I straightened, the coach had certainly taken this direction, veering off the main road, which I knew led to Paris. I felt some alarm, although I attempted to remain calm. There was foul play involved. She would naturally have gone on to Paris, I was sure of it. I cursed inwardly as I remembered that I did not have my trusty Punjab lasso with me. I would have to procure a weapon of some kind somewhere, perhaps at the very destination I was heading for.

Feeling certain that I was on the trail of the coach on which my beloved was traveling, I spurred my equine friend into a gallop. We went on thus for several miles, as I reckoned it. The countryside now sweeping past had the mark of civilization upon it. We passed fields that showed signs of recent tilling, and here and there, cottages were to be seen, with tidily-kept flower beds, while smoke rose cheerily up into the atmosphere from their stocky chimneys.

At length, we topped a rise in the land, and I pulled the stallion to a stop. He was breathing hard again, his flanks heaving. I patted his neck affectionately, and he tossed his head, impatient to dash down the slope that lay before us. He was not as winded as I had thought at first, but I still kept him in check as I surveyed the landscape ahead.

It was then that I saw it in the distance, rising up majestically from the fragrant earth. It was a grand chateau, entirely surrounded, it seemed, by a stone wall, with massive iron gates in front. I wondered what member of the nobility it could possibly belong to, fervently hoping that the owner was not Raoul de Chagny. As my mind brought up this name, I trembled with anger. Was it that blasted boy, then, who now had my beautiful Christine? I gnashed my teeth at the thought. The stallion felt the change in my mood, and moved uneasily. I patted his neck again, soothing him with my voice. At the same time, I strove to purge my mind of the presence of my hated rival. The notion now seemed a ridiculous one. Christine had run from him, after all, straight into my arms. Why would she return to him? On the other hand, perhaps he had abducted her...

Bah! More ridiculous notions! Raoul would never have the nerve to carry off such a plan!

Throwing my thoughts aside, I allowed the stallion his head even as I dug my heels into his flanks. We galloped down the slope, on toward the chateau...


End file.
